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Would You Like to 

Take in $ 140 after Supper? 



This is exactly what L. Burnett did while still 
employed. Here are his own words: 

"/ worked at my Duraclean business part 
time until I saw that I could make as much 
in a week as my job paid for a whole month. 
One night, after supper, I took in $1W. 
Since going full time, I've had single jobs 
running $300 and more." 
Mr. Burnett and one helper serviced this $140 
"after-supper" job. The national price guide 



provides a Duraclean dealer a gross profit of $6 
per hour on EACH serviceman plus $9 per hour 
on any service he himself renders. Your income 
is limited only by the number of servicemen 
you employ. 

To own a business is much easier than you 
think. We show you how . . . step by step. The 
24 page fully illustrated booklet we'll mail you 
(with no obligation) explains how most of your 
gross profit becomes a clear net profit to you. 




Start while Continuing Present Job 

We furnish all the equipment... and help finance you 



If you've wanted to BE YOUR OWN BOSS 
... to become financially independent . . . have 
a fast growing income . . . and own a Nationally 
Advertised business, now YOU CAN. 

You can stay at your present job while your 
customer list grows . . . then switch to full time, 
lining up jobs for your servicemen to do. 

One small job a day brings a good starting 
income. As you add full or part-time servicemen, 
your income is limited only by your own effort. 

Dealers operate from a shop, office, or their 
home. Equipment is portable.. .the electric Foam- 



ovator converts to a convenient carrying case. 

At the start, you may want to render service 
yourself ... or you can start out with service- 
men. This business is easy to learn . . . easy to 
start ... so easy to service that women dealers 
often do it. We prefer you have no experience 
. . . not have to "unlearn" old methods. 

We are NOW enlarging this worldwide sys- 
tem of individually-ownea service businesses. If 
you are reliable, honest and willing to work to 
become financially independent, we invite you 
to mail the coupon. 



It's Eosier than You Think to Start Your Own Business 



When you receive our illustrated booklet, you 
will see the way we show you step by step how to 
quickly get customers . . . how to steadily build 
more customers from their recommendations. 

All xix services are rendered "on location*' in 
homes, offices, hotels, theaters, churches, clubs, 
motels and institutions. 

These superior, safer and convenient methods 
spread Duraclean dealerships throughout North and 
South America, Africa, Portugal, England, Israel, 
Norway and many other countries. 

National Magazine advertising explains the 



superior merits of your services, builds your cus- 
tomer confidence and brings job leads to you. 

We and a Duraclean dealer will train you and assist 
you. He'll reveal his successful, proven methods. We 
show you all you need to know. 

You have pre- tested newspaper and yellow-page 
ads. commercials, and a full mailing program. 

Furnishings stores, insurance adjustora, and decora- 
tors refer jobs to our dealers. These year 'round 
services are in constant demand. 

TODAY is the time to reserve a Duraclean dealer- 
ship . . . before someone takes your location. 



Start Small, Grow Big . . . in this Booming Business 



Many men have said to us. "I can't afford to give 
up my job till I know I have a sure thing . . .' a 
sound business that will provide both security and 
a better living for my family." 

That made sense to us so we worked out such a 

B'an . , , and those same men are now enjoying 
uraclean dealerships in many communities. You 
don't experiment. You use tested, proven methods. 
You have our backing and "know how." 

Does this appeal to you? Don't decide now. Mail 
the coupon so you'll have the facts to decide wisely. 
There is no obligation whatsoever. You will then 
know whether this is what you want. 

You can start Bmall and grow big just as we did. 
A third of a century ago Duraclean was an idea 
. . . but it caught fire and spread rapidly to a world- 
wide service. It spread because it was based upon 
(1) superior processes and- (2} proven customer- 
getting methods. 

Our first service, the care of carpets and up- 
holstery, exemplifies these superiorities. It not only 
cleans; it enlivens the fibers . . . revives dull colors. 
Pile rises with new life. Furnishings are used again 
in a few h~urs. 

There's no machine scrubbing. No soaking. 
Duraclean cleans by absorption. Mild aerated foam 
lightly applied, lifts out dirt, grease and' many 
unsightly spots like magic. 



Government figures show service businesses grow- 
ing faster than industries and stores . . . $750 million 
yearly potential just in rug and furniture cleaning. 
You nave S other services. 

Space here will not |>ermit describing your other 
services but they are fully explained in the free 
booklet we'll mail you. You have six opportunities 
for profit on every job. 

A few hundred dollars establishes YOUR OWN 
business. A day's profit more than takes care of the 
monthly payments we finance for you. 

Men frequently take in partners. 

We furnish electric equipment and enough ma- 
terials to return your TOTAL investment. If you 
have good habits and know the importance of cus- 
tomer satisfaction, yon can likely qualify for a 
Duraclean dealership. 

It's been said, "Opportunity knocks but once at 
every man's door." This could be that one rare 
opportunity in your life. 

It is surprisingly easy 
to learn this business. 
You can decide from the 
information we will send 
you whether to apply for 
a dealership. So, with no 
obligation whatever, mail 
the coupon TODAY. 



"Resale - 
Service 



If, because of illness, moving 
or for any reason a dealer wants 
to sell, we maintain a service to 
locate buyers and to help him sell. 

Dealerships resell at up to 10 
times the dealer's cost. R.D.K., 
after 5 months, sold for $2,000 
above his cost. L.L., after 30 
months, got $7,116 more than he 
had paid. The value of your 
dealership and franchise grows 
monthly. 



FREE BOOKLET 

tells how to start 

Your Own Business 

With no obligation, we'll mail you a 
letter and 24 page booklet explaining this 
business . . . how and why your income 
grows . . . how we help finance you. 

Then decide if this opportunity fulfills 
your dream of independence and a much 



Your Services Are 
Endorsed by 

McCall's Magazine, Parents, 
American Research & Testing 
Laboratories . . . and by leading 
Carpet Mills & Furniture Makers 

What Dealers Say: 

Lsngdon Lsweon: National advertising 
is tops, creates leads. In September, working 
alone, jobs totaled $1,475. 

K. C. Blue: Customer called a prominent 
competitor. They said they could not clean 
her badly soiled furniture ... to contact me, 
"if anyone could get it clean, I could." 

Charles Randal: Business keeps grow- 
ing. Made as much as $120 in one day. 

D. Kern: Duraclean's proven-best process 
and the continuous help from headquarters 
gave me a big jump on all competition. 

George Byera: For University, my total 
billing was $2,416. Total expenses $814. 

Gerald Weihrauch: Three persons 
called me . . . saw Duraclean advertised in' 
magazines. 

Edward Hoy: A smoke damage insur- 
ance claim bill was $186. All work was done 
by me in exactly 8 hours and 2 minutes. 
John Hoak: I've never worked at any- 
thing I enjoyed more than Duraclean. 

W. C. Smith: Famed $650 one week. 
Volume keeps getting bigger. 

Service man for dealer C. Weed: Fur- 
niture waa filthy black. When through, I 
was amazed how clean. 

John E. Frost: First 2 months 
I grossed $1,000 part-time. 

Loren Parris: I'm proud to 
be independent at 30. I wish I 
had known about Duraclean 
earlier. 

Earl Davis: Our sales in- 
creased $17,660 this year. 

Ed. Kramaky: In 2 years. I 
now have two assistants, a nice 
home and real security for my 
fajnily. ^^_ 



Mad this coupon TODAY 

It may put you in business 



| Duraclian Co 7-407 Ouucltan Blag.. Doirflold, III. 60015 
With no obligation , mall letter with i i page UluMrMeit 
b-Mkli-t oxjilnlnins how I can Increase my Incunic and 
family security with a Duruclcnn Dealership. 



row . . . so mail coupon today. 

Find Out with 
NO OBLIGATION 



3 



FEBRUARY 1967 




MEN 



VOLUME 10, NUMBER 10 



THEODORE S. HECHT, 

Editor 

ALBERCOVICI, 

Assistant Editor 

ARTHUR BONN, 

General Mgr/Arl Director 

ELLEN HOLMES, 

Art Associate 

LANIA ASHLEY, 

Art Associate 

BARBARA GORDON 

Art Associate 

JACQUELINE WAITERS, 

Production 

LAWRENCE P. HATEM, 

VP., Circulation Director 



REAL MEN, Volume 10, Number 10, February 
1967, is publbhed monthly by STANLEY PUBLICA- 
TIONS, INC., 261 Fifth Ave., New York, N.Y. 
10016. Second-claw postage paid of Sparta, III., 
and additional mailing offices. Copyright 1966 by 
STANLEY PUBLICATIONS, INC. Single copy 35«; 
subscription rate M.20 per year. All material sub- 
mitted at sender's risk. Publisher cannot be respon- 
sible (or lots or non-return of manuscripts or 
photos, which will not be returned unless accom- 
panied by a stamped, self-addressed envelope 
bearing the correct postage. All unsolicited manu- 
scripts accepted for publication will be paid for at 
our usual rates. Advertising representative, LEON- 
ARD GREENE ASSOCIATES, 1457 Broadway, New 
York, N.Y. 10036. Printed in the U.S.A. 



MEN IN ACTION 



HOW WE ESCAPED FROM 

RED CHINA by Dr. WalhW Mehrstaff 

Qui off from my embassy by the Red Guards, I had 
to flee into the Gobi desert 

page 16 

EARTHQUAKE by R.W. Shellabarger 

The whole world disappeared in an explosion of 
rubble and heaving ground. 

page 22 
THE JAP KILLERS OF LUZON 

by Len Humboldt 

They were beaten, trapped and surrounded but 
she didn't know how to surrender 

page 32 
THIRTY-TWO MEN AGAINST RED CLOUD.... 

by Frank Couch 

There were more than 3000 Indians, led by the 
Sioux, massed against the corral 

page 38 

MONEY TO BURN by Howard L Oleck 




page 40 

by Ray S. McGlothlan 
page 28 




They had captured an entire Nazi payroll and 
they knew that the money was good to spend 



TREASURE 



TREASURE IN THE SWAAAP OF DEATH. 

We know exactly where the gold is buried but 
the hostile Indians drove us off 



SEXUAL RESEARCH by Sterling Rogers ' 

Beware of the quacks who are cashing in on the 

famous Johnson-Masters report paae 20 

*-»*► ~* *~ 
HOW I TRIED LOVE WITH ANOTHER jjfc< 

WOMAN by Karen DeL M lj~ ' > 

I was lonely and hungry for excitement so I took ^^H^^P^^K* 

the opportunity to find out for myself paae 30 ^^? «^H*fck. 'i 

SCOREBOARD 6 

PICTURE OF DEATH 12 

MEDICINE MAN 14 

POWER HOUSE a 

QUEEN CHRISTINA 24 

PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT 34 



"Add 3 INCHES of steel-like 
Muscles to Your ARMS 

inches to your chest... FAST" 
... IN JUST SO PAYS I 



4 Power- 



4 ». 



Let ME prove to you at my 
own expense that every- 
thing I say can be done! 





^( LET ME SLAP 5 TO 50 

POUNDS OF DYNAMIC, VIRILE 
MUSCLES ON YOUR BODY 

. . . turn you into a rugged HE-MAN . . , 
load your body with jet-charged power, thick Herculean 
arms . . . deep massive chest . . . atomic-powered S 

legs . . . shoulders a "yard-wide" . . . with power 
oozing from every pore off your new power- /* 

packed body . . . FAST . . . and right in the 
the privacy of your own homel 

ALL I NEED is 15 MINUTES 

to prove that you can have that rugged, A 
v/rife, he-man body, loaded with action, £ 
will-power and the dynamic 
personality you've always wanted 

In half the time with twice the 
ease. In the privacy of your own 
room, in just a Tew minutes dally 
I will - through my TRIPLE- 
PROGRESSION COURSE - slap 
inches of steel-like muscles on your 
pipe stem arms . . . pack your chest 
with power and size . . . give you 
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speedy, athletic legs . . . add Jet- 
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of your body. 1 don't care if you're 
short or tall . . . skinny or fat . . . 
office -worker, laborer, student or 
business man. 1 MUST make a 
new virile he-man out of you and 
help you build tremendous "Inner 
strength" that wilt give you that 
virile look that men envy and 
women admire. What I did for 
BOB BURKE, ANDRE LEP1NE 
and other Mr. America and Mr. 
Unlverie winners and thousands 
of former weaklings. / can do far 
you! Yes, I can turn you into a 
real HE-MAN' 

HERE'S LIVING PROOFI 

Andre Lepine gains 80 pounds I 

BEFORE mailing [hi 

coupon . . . IOC 

of skin and _. 
What a rund 
wreck! He bad 10-inch 

Sipestem arms ... a 
at 34-inch chest. Truly 

a pathetic cage of 

weakness before he 

mailed me this coupon' 
l AFTER Welder Train- 
'ing! What a Change! 

What a Build! 180 

pound* ... a mountain 

of mighty muscles with 

Herculean 17-inch arms 

. . . magnificent 48-inch 

ch'-st and shoulders a 

yard wide. Another 

dream come true! 



FREE 

MUSCLE 
BUILDING 
TRIAL OFFERI 

FUl out coupon and mail to me. 
I'll rush you my GIANT 48-page 
course filled with exercises, train- 
ing secrets, heroic photos of the 
mighty champions and private ad- 
vice on how you can become a 
muscle star FAST! A-C-T-l-O-N 
is the key to tlrtngih. Make your 
first he-man decision today. Rush 
In this coupon for your free trial 
course. You have nothing to lose 
but your wtakntstl 



It's YOURS 

FREE! 

No Obligation! 

Don't miss this onco-in -a -lifetime opportunity! ■ 



oooooooooooooooooooooo 

O THE $10,000 CHALLENGE • 

% only JOE WEIDER dares to % 
O motel 

S I guarantee to show you how to ** 

J add twice as much muscle . . . 2 

5 triple your power . . . gain more Jf 

2 weight twice as fast through my 2 

2 system of training than you could X 

2 through any other method . . . and X 

2 In HALF THE TIME! I challenge 2 

q any other physical instructor In X 

X the world who teaches through _ 

JJ the mails to accept my challenge! Q 

JOE WEIDER O 

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JOE WEIDER, Trainer Of The Champions 
531 32nd Street, otpt. 17-27T 
Union City, Now Jersey 07087 

Shoof (he workt, Joel Rush me my FREE Introductory Power-PocJted 
Muide-Building Course. ,'' Check which gains you want to make. 
I want □ Bigger arms. Dlarger neck. □ Deeper chest. 

□ Trimmer waist, a Athletic legs. Q Added weight. 

P Broader shoulders. □ More endurance and power. 
I enclose only 10* to cover the cost of handling and mailing. I am 
under no further obligation. 

NAME A <» 6 

ADDRESS 

CITY 



IPIMM print plainly) 



REAL 
MEN 



SCOREBOARD 



; 



•WHERE THERE'S A WILL 
THERE'S A WHEY . . . 

While fighting a fire in a cheese 
factory in Michigan, their water 
supply ran out, so the firemen con- 
nected their pumper to a whey tank 
and put out the blaze. Whey is the 
watery liquid left over when milk 
is made into cheese. 

•ARTIFICIAL BEER . . . 

A synthetic beer has been per- 
fected by three Japanese scientists. 
It's made from succinic acid, hops, 







filtered starch, glucose, spices, yeast, 
and coloring. It may not sound very 
appetizing, but the scientists say it 
costs only one-fifth as much to make 
as the real stuff. 

• LOSING BANDIT . . . 

A Newark grocer gained $6.40 
from an attempted holdup. As the 
grocer yelled for help, the nervous 
gunman ran from the store, leaving 
behind a dollar bill and $5.40 worth 
of groceries which he had already 
paid for. 

• DON'T THROW OUT THAT TIE 

Try this to remove soil from that 
favorite tie you don't want to part 
with: Hold the soiled area of the tie 
directly in the flow of escaping 
steam of a tea kettle. This will 
loosen the dirt. Then rub the spots 
with any good cleaning fluid, and 
your tie will be as good as new. 

• DID YOU KNOW THAT? . . . 

There are about 72,200,000 li- 
censed drivers in America. . . . No 
person may own or sell an alligator 
less than four feet long, in Florida. 
. . . Some day soon you may be able 
to carry around that extra-dry Mar- 
tini-with-olive in an envelope in 
your pocket. New plastic containers 
were on display at the recent Amer- 
6 



ican Management Assn's 25th an- 
nual packaging exposition and con- 
ference. ... A Chicago tavern de- 
cided to allow customers to mix 
their own drinks. ... A factory in 
California that produced fireproof 
building materials, burned down. 
. . . Americans purchased 400,000 
more bottles of champagne in 1955 
than in 1954, the French Champagne 
Committee reported. 

• DID YOU ALSO KNOW THAT . . . 

While the Governor of New York 
gets a salary of $50,000 a year, the 
Governor of North Dakota gets 
$9,000 a year. . . . Governor Luis 




Munoz-Marin of Puerto Rico, who 
receives a salary of $10,600 a year, 
refused to accept an increase to 
$20,000 when it was passed by the 
Legislature. 

• OCEANIC FACTS . . . 

The deepest point ever discovered 
in the Pacific ocean is the Marians 
Trench (200 miles southwest of 
Guam) which has a depth of 35,650 
feet. The deepest point in the At- 
lantic Ocean is 30,246 feet, just 
north of Puerto Rico. The deepest 




off the West Coast of Africa. . . . The 
distance between the top of the 
highest mountain (Mt. Everest) and 
the bottom of the sea is 64,500 feet. 

• WHAT'S THE SCORE? . . . 

On August 23, 1953, outfielder Don 
Grate of Chattanooga threw a base- 
ball 443 feet, breaking his own rec- 
ord of 434 feet. . . . Which team do 
you think holds the record for the 
most games won in a single season? 




man has ever descended into the 
ocean was on Feb. 14, 1954, when 
two officers of the French Navy 
descended to a depth of 13,287 feet, 



Yankees?? Dodgers?? No! . . . In 
1906 the Chicago Cubs won 116 
games and lost only 36, for the 
amazing percentage of .763! . . . 
Everyone knows that Babe Ruth 
holds the record for 60 home runs, 
but did you know that he also holds 
61 other records? 

• WEIGHT OF YOUR BRAIN . . . 

The average weight of the brain 
of a fully developed, medium-sized 
male is 1,400 grams or 49.3 ounces. 
For the female the weight of the 
brain is 1,275 grams, or 44.9 ounces. 
In comparison, the heart of the 
male weigh* 300 grams (10.6 
ounces) and the women's 250 grams 
(8.8 ounces). 

• HELPFUL HINTS . . . 

If you want to know the weight 
of your luggage before going on an 
airplane trip, and do not have a 
scale to accommodate your heavy 
luggage, try this: First step on your 
bathroom scale and note the exact 
weight. Then pick up your luggage, 
and holding on to it, step on the 
scale again. The difference between 
the two readings will be the weight 
of your luggage. ... If you've had 
trouble trying to remove wallpaper, 
try this: make a solution of warm 
water and laundry starch and apply 
it to the paper, let it set for about 
ten minutes, then scrape it off with 
a wide blade scraper. . . . Here's an 
easy way to sharpen scissors: take a 
few sheets of light sandpaper and 
cut through them. • • • 



- For Action, Security, Bicj Pay - 



INVESTIGATE ACCIDENTS 




Earn To $10 An Hour * Work 
Part-Time Or Full-Time * Car 
Furnished — Expenses Paid * 
No Selling — No Previous Expe- 
rience Needed * Only Average 
Education Required 

NO OTHER CAREER OFFERS YOU 
A BRIGHTER FUTURE 

Consider this fact. In the short time it 
takes you to read this page 1,100 acci- 
dents will take place. Over 440,000 will 
occur before this day ends. These acci- 
dents must be investigated. The law de- 
mands it. Yet in 4 out of 5 cities, towns 
and rural communities, no one has been 
trained for this vital work. 

KEEP PRESENT JOB 
UNTIL READY TO SWITCH 

Step into this fast-moving Accident In- 
vestigation field. A (ready hundreds of 
men we have trained are making big 
money. Joe Miller earned $14,768 his 
first year. A. J. Allen earned over $2,000 
in ten weeks. Robert Meier says "I'm 
now earning $7.50 to $15.00 an hour in 
my own business . . - Universale course is 
wonderful." 

FREE EMPLOYMENT HELP GIVEN 
We CAN and WILL show you how to 
rapidly build your own full-time or part- 
time business. Or if you wish a big-pay 
job as Company Claims Investigator, our 
Placement Service will give you real 
assistance. Hundreds of firms needing 
men call upon Universal. j£c. nlacc ft&r. 
more men in this boomin g field than any 
other individual , compan y or schoo l. 

WE FINANCE YOU 

Write today for complete information. 
Costs are less than you'd imagine. And 
even on these low costs you need pay 
only a portion — less than half — in 
order to complete your training. We 
finance the rest for you. You may pay 
out of actual earnings. And you can 
keep present job while learning. Send 
now for free book. No salesman will call. 
You are not committed in any way. 



STATE APPROVED for VETERANS' TRAINING 



EARN WHILE YOU LEARN 

Let us show you how easy it is to get into this exciting 
new career in just a matter of weeks. You need NO 
prior experience or higher education. There's NO invest- 
ment in expensive equipment. You do NO selling. Fur- 
thermore, this fast-growing Accident Investigation field 
has no seasonal layoffs ... no time out for strikes ... no 
oversupply of men ... no worry about automation. We 
ask you to compare these terrific advantages with the 
job you now have! Cash in on this big demand for 
trained men NOW. Write today! 



Mail Now for FREE BOOK 



M. O. Wilton, Dept.W-2 

Universal Schools, 

6601 H.lkreit, Dallas, Texas 75205 

Ploote ruth mo your FREE BOOK on Big Money li 
Tho Booming Accident Invaitigotion Field. I will be 
under no obligation — ond no laloimen will coll upon mo. 



Addn 
City.. 




. Stoto Zip Codo 



Patti Powers likes to sing. 

Patti sings most anything. 

And everytime she's in the spot 

The people stare at what she's got! 

POWER HOUSE 









^wCJ? 



S* 



t: 




Black-haired, brown eyed Patti 

is a 23 year old bundle of 
beauty, all wrapped up in a skin 

that stretches out to 37-25-36! 

10 



POWER 
HOUSE 




NOW YOU CAN BUY 

FORDS, CHEVROLETS, DODGES 

BELOW WHOLESALE!! 



NO GIMMICKS, NO HIDDEN CHARGES . . . THIS IS A STRAIGHT, HONEST 
OFFERI IMMEDIATE DELIVERY GUARANTEED. RIGHT TO YOUR FRONT 
DOOR ANYWHERE IN THE UNITED STATES!! 




J JHKX 







'50 



AND THE BALANCE ON LONG 
EASY MONTHLY PAYMENTS ! ! ! 
ANOTHER BIG SPECIAL FOR CLUB 
MEMBERS ONLY. JOIN TODAY. 



'50 



HOW DO YOU GET IN ON THIS FABULOUS DEAL? 

All you have to do is join the WHOLESALE-DISCOUNT 
BUYERS CLUB. As a member we'll show you how you can 
get the car of your choice immediately at the lowest ever 
price as shown above. 

WHAT ELSE DOES THE CLUB DO? 

As a club member, you receive regular mailings with pic- 
tures and descriptions of dozens and dozens of name brand 
items that you can buy direct by mail at fantastic low, low 
wholesale-discount prices. Name brands such as DUNCAN- 
HINES, DORMEYER, COLEMAN, GRUEN, PRESTO, INTER- 
NATIONAL SILVER, NUTONE, POLAROID, REMINGTON 
RAND, SCHICK, SMITH CORONA, SUNBEAM, WATERMAN, 
WEBCOR, WEAREVER, WESTINGHOUSE AND MANY, MANY 
MORE. ..APPLIANCES, TV SETS, TYPEWRITERS, WATCHES, 
JEWELRY, RADIOS, STEREO SETS, COOKWARE, FISH- 
ING SETS, SILVERWARE, HUNTING EQUIPMENT, BOOKS, 
GLASSWARE, LINENS, DRAPERY, FABRICS, FURNITURE, 



TOYS, FUR STOLES, HOSIERY, CLOTHING, SHOES, AND 
MUCH, MUCH MORE . . . Why pay regular retail prices? 
Join the WHOLESALE-DISCOUNT BUYERS CLUB today and 
start saving big money. 

HOW MUCH DOES IT COST TO JOIN THE CLUB? 

You pay only three dollars for a full year's membership! 
There are no other charges, nothing else to pay. And you 
are under no obligation of any kind when you join the club. 
You don't have to buy anything at all if you don't want to. 



WHOLESALE-DISCOUNT BUYERS CLUB 

DIPT. 132-2 

333 OLD TARRYTOWN ROAD 
WHITE PLAINS. NEW YORK 10603 

I enclose three dollars as payment in full for a year's membership in 
the WHOLESALE-DISCOUNT BUYERS CLUB. Please send complete 
information on the automobiles as described above, immediately by 
return mail. Also put me on the list to receive the descriptions and 
photos of name brand merchandise that I can purchase at wholesale 
and discount prices by mail. I understand that I am not obligated to 
buy anything and that I will receive a full refund of my $3.00 mem- 
bership fee at anytime, with no questions asked. 



•MONEY BACK GUARANTEE - 



We're so certain that you'll be absolutely thrilled as a member of the 
club, that we'll refund your $3.00 membership fee anytime during the 
year you belong if you are dissatisfied for any reason whatsoever, with 
no questions asked. You have nothing to lose and everything to gain! 



ADDRESS- 
CITY 



-_l 
11 



PICTURE OF DEATH 




Everyone 
can be o 
pose. Thes 
they give 
12 



has to die, sooner or later, so at least one 

little bit happier if one's death serves a pur- 

e men, here, do that in a good two ways. First, 

the crowd a few moment's happiness; second. 



they definitely decorate the landscape, making a change 
from the drabness of an empty countryside to the high 
excitement of a swaying shadow against the sky. And 
so, in the service of humanity, we pledge a corpse. 



Maybe it's illegal . . . Maybe it's outlawed 
But with results like this. ..WHO CARES! 



Banned from the trackt by every major oil company, (yet used in the fleet 
of m world /imom ouiu rental tyttem*, at well at uted in motor poolt of 
tome of the nation't targetl corporationt tthote namet read tike m "who's 
mho" of Industry) — here It the full ttory behind teienee't new miracle- 
invention that gleet yon up to 500 milet from a tingle tanh of got — tavet 
you up to SO gallons of gat each month — up to $200 on gat each year! 
In fact, when it was first tested on the same proving grounds and in the 
tame test-laboratories used by Ford, GM and Chrysler . . . results were so 
overtvhelming that nation-wide press releases by America's leading auto- 
motive authorities immediately hailed this great new breakthrough! 
6 months ago, for perhaps the first time i 



history, the United Slates Government is- 
sued patent protection to an invention that 
has been classified ILLEGAL! Sound 
strange? Not really . . , here's why: 
I'm sure you're familiar with the famous 
gasoline-economy tests run by all major 
oil companies. Well, do you know that the 
remarkable new invention described on 
this page is actually banned from these 
tests because it is TOO EFFECTIVE! 
Do you know that because this invention 
saves so much gasoline . . . because it gives 
so much econom> , it is actually ILLEGAL 
for a test-driver to fit one on his car! And 
do you know that because it boosts gaso- 
line mileage up to 11 more miles per gal- 
lon ... it is actually outlawed in every 
recognized cross-country economy test . . . 
simply because the officials who conduct 
these tests have been forced to rule that 
it gives all cars that have it AN UNFAIR 
ADVANTAGE! 

In other words if you are a person plan- 
ning on entering one of these cross- 
country economy runs . . . then this mes- 
sage is not for you. YOU JUST WONT 
BE ALLOWED TO USE THIS NEW 
INVENTION — SORRY, BUT ITS 
SIMPLY ILLEGAL. But — if you are 
interested in getting more miles per gal- 
lon than you ever dreamed possible — 
and doing it the very same way that many 
of America's leading corporations are 
doing at this very moment— then what 
you are about to read is perhaps the 
most thrilling and exciting news in auto- 
motive history! 



The name of this great new invention is 
the GT ENERGY CHAMBER ... and 
there is no better way to describe to you 
the increased performance and economy 
it will give you . . . than to tell you of the 
"bombshell effect" it had on research sci- 
entists and test-drivers, who simply re- 
fused to believe their own gasoline gauges 
when they first tried it out. Look: 

CUT5 GASOLINE COSTS TO 
AS LITTLE AS 1C A MILE 

1 . When the GT Energy Chamber was first 
tested by the same research laboratories 
used by Ford, General Motors and Chrys- 
ler ... results were so overwhelming, (a 
staggering increase of up to 67 per cent) 
... it actually lowered gasoline costs to as 
little as one cent a mile! 

2. When tests were made by a second giant 
auto rental system* with this incredible 
money saving invention . . . and then test- 
run on the road and on such world famous 
proving grounds as the Indianapolis Speed- 



LOOK HOW EASY IT IS! 




The GT ENERGY CHAMBER takes but a few 
minutes to install. In tact, It's so easy you 
need not know a single thing about an en- 
gine because easy picture directions ac- 
company each unit. Total Installation time 
3 to 5 minutes. Total savings on gas up to 
1200 a year! 



LEADING DIGEST REPORTS 
BIG AUTOMOTIVE BREAKTHROUGH 
Recently, scientists at one of the 
world's leading oil companies discov- 
ered a new way to save as much as 
35 gallons a month on ihe gasoline 
your car burns. Working in complete 
secrecy for over 15 years, these men 
had been assigned to find out once and 
for all just how much mileage could 
actually be coaxed from an automo- 
bile engine. 

After thousands upon thousands of 
experiments, they discovered (hat by 
simply feeding the gasoline to the en- 
gine in a new and different way they 
were able to get as much as 34 miles 
or more from every gallon of gas. 
So revolutionary was this breakthrough 
that the Digest featured the sensa- 
tional news NOT ONCE ... but in two 
separate issues — AND THAT WAS 
ONLY THE BEGINNING: because 
when another group of experts took 
this "forced-feeding" concept ... al- 
tered it . . . tested it . . . and improved 
it even more . . . they boosted gasoline 
mileage to a staggering 36 r i on 7 and 
8-year-old cars . . . and as much ts 
61% on later model cars. 



What you see on this page is the full, 
thrilling story behind this new wonder- 
invention . . . and how you, too, may 
obtain up to 7, 9 even 11 more miles 
per gallon . . . and do it without chang- 
ing a single part on your car! 




"MATCH ME — I DURE YOU"— AND WE DID! This is the test that left the experts gasping in dis- 
belief The day we took a big luxurious Cadillac sedan ... and pitted it in an ECONOMY RUN 
against a so-called "economy car"... this small Plymoulh. The only change we made in Ihe 
Cadillac . - . it was fitted out wilh the amaiing new invention the GT ENERGY CHAMBER, described 
on this page. Result of test? The Cadillac boosted its miles per gallon by so much, it actually 
OUTPERFORMED the Plymouth . . . left it standing bone-diy, panting for even a glass of gasoline. 
For full documented proof ol just how this amazing new invention can save you up to $200 in 
gasoline in the next 12 months . read the test of this page. (Test conducted on the New 
England Turnpike—results sealed and attested to by official slate notary.) 



way ... the tesl-drivers of tnese vehicles 
were absolutely amazed to see these big 
8 cylinder sedans get better gas-mileage 
than small European economy cars! 

3. When RCA, General Electric and some 
of the nation's largest taxi fleets tested this 
great new invention to determine just how 
much gas it would save them . . . results 
were so dramatic, that wiihin 30 days ihey 
reported savings of HUNDREDS and 
HUNDREDS OF gallons of gas the very 
first month alone! 

Even more startling . . . when one of th* 
world's largest Heel owners* . . . tested this 
amazing G. T. ENERGY CHAMBER (to 
prove to themselves bow much money they 
could save) the proof was so convincing, 
so dramatic, that they ordered entire fleets 
of cars IMMEDIATELY EQUIPPED; 
that's the kind of miracle-mileage this 
thrilling new invention delivers. 



BEST PROOF OF ALL! 
One Of Tbe World's Largest Krnt-A- 
Car Systems Road-Tests Amazing New 
Invention For 3 Solid Months . . . Then 
Orders Fleet Of Cars IMMEDIATELY 
EQUIPPED! They report "Savings of 
up to 54 gallons a month per car". 
Yes, from one of the nation's largest 
automobile fleet owners comes the most 
dramatic proof of all. A company that 
spends more money on gasoline in one 
weekend than the average person spends 
in a lifetime. They tested this incredible 
new invention and here is what they 
found. BOOSTED GASOLINE MILE- 
AGE A WHOPPING 32% ON ALL 
CARS TESTED. Wouldn't you like to 
save up to $200 a year on your car? For 
full details read the rest of this page. 



or the Aston-Martin, you would sec sitting 
right behind the carburetor ... a special 
gasoline BOOSTER unit . . especially de- 
signed to extract more blazing power, 
more energy, from each gallon 01 Base- 
line. This remarkable booster-unit is what 
gives these cars such magnificent perform- 
ance . . . such TOTAL POWER ... in- 
creased engine efficiency. 
And this is precisely what the GT EN- 
ERGY CHAMBER is designed to do — 
enable your engine to extract more pision- 
driving power, more raw, blazing energy 
and more gasoline economy. ..ONLY, in- 
stead of costing S100 to $150 (like the 
European booster-unite)... the GT EN- 
ERGY CHAMBER costs but a mere 
fraction. 

That's because afler years of intensive re- 
search, automotive experts have finally 
found a way to simplify the mileage- 
boosting principle of these booster uniis 
. . . reduce Ihe number of parts in each 
unit . . . mass produce them . . . and 
make them available at a price so low it's 
almost too ridiculous to mention. Why. 



do you realise what this means lo you if 
you are determined to save yourself up 
to $16 month on your gas hills ... up (o 
50 gallons of gas each monih . . . yes, up 
to $200 o yeai <m wasted gasoline? 

INSTALLS IN MINUTES- 
PAYS FOR ITSELF IN AS LITTLE 
AS 15 DAYS 
It means that no mailer what kind of car 
you now have ... no mailer how old that 
car may be . . . from this d;iy on, you, WO, 
can now save up to 500 Balloni Of gas 
each and every year. NOW you, IOO, CM 
drive for hundreds of miles at a time with- 
out ever stopping at a service station. 
NOW you. too. can drive across t> stales 
of the union on just a single tank of gas 
. . . blOZB Q trail from New York lo Chi- . 
CBBO on just 2 oi 3 lankfuls... perform ' 
murage-miracles that only yesterday you 
thought were utterly impossible. 

Take advantage of the most significant 
automotive discovery of our age. Achieve 
ihe same wondrous results as America's 
largest automotive fleet owners, giants of 
industry, Indianapolis test-drivers, and re- 
search scientists. If you can spare the few 
minutes it takes to attach this brilliant new 
discovery to your car, then take advantage 
of this special Free-trial introductory offer. 

PROVE IT TO YOURSELF AT OUR RISK 
Now the price of the GT ENERGY 
CHAMBER on this special iniroduciory 
trial I'Her is not the I? or 20 dollars you 
might expect . . . but only $6.95. Why, 
you'll save up to 10 times that amount 
in gasoline savings in no time at all not 
to mention ihe hundreds of dollars in 
money you save year after year. 
And since We invite you lo try the GT 
ENERGY CHAMBER «>n your own car 
completely at our risk . . . you have ab- 
solutely nothing to lose and everything in 
the world lo gain. So to lake advantage of 
this no risk trial offer ■ . mail the no-risk 
coupon today! 



Yes, from road tests, laboratory tests, tests 
by one of the world's most famous test 
drivers . . . come reports of cars lhat drive 
for hundreds and hundreds of miles ON 
A SINGLE TANK OF GAS! Reports of 
test cars from Ford, General Motors, 
Chrysler that get more miles per gallon 
today than when they were brand new! 
Reports of big, luxury sedans that out- 
weigh small European cars by a full ton 
. . . yel get better gas mileage, and huge 
dollar savings thanks to this new miracle 



ORDER TODAY — ON FULL. MONEY-BACK GUARANTEE 



AMERICAN AUTOMOTIVE UNITS. INC. Dept. 417 
550 FIFTH AVENUE. NEW YORK. N.Y. 10022 

Please rush me the sensational GT ENERGY CHAMBER immediately! I 
I understand the price is only $6.95 for which 1 enclose cash, check or money 
| order. It is understood that I may return the unit within 90 days for full 
j purchase price refund if I am not fully satisfied. 



IF IT WORKS SUCH MILEAGE MIRACLES, 
HOW COME THE CAR MANUFACTURERS 
HAVEN'T INSTALLED THIS TYPE OF UNIT 
IN THEIR CARS — THE ANSWER IS THAT 
TWO ALREADY HAVE! 

By now you are probably wondering just 
what is ihe GT ENERGY CHAMBER 
. . . and how does it work? To make a 
long story short ... if you were to look 
under the hood of one of those $20,000 
European luxury cars like the Maseralti 



NAME 



_STATE_ 

year_ 



— I 



number of cylinders (6 or 8)._ 



j SPECIAL OFFER: Purchase one for yourself and one for a friend and save 
even more. Order iwo GT ENERGY CHAMBERS for just $11.95 (a savings 
of $2.00), same guarantee as above. 

] Make of second car 



_Year_„ 



...No. of Cyls._ 



( ) C.O.D. orders enclose $1.00 deposit. Same money-back guarantee. 



medicine 



fc, 




rrtT ( 



man 




• GET RID OF DANDRUFF . . . 

a simple case of dandruff is usually 
cleared up by improving your gen- 
eral health routine. You should get 
enough sleep, relaxation, exercise, 
and maintain a well-balanced diet, 
including plenty of fruits and vege- 
tables. Shampoo your hair fre- 
quently, parting it at inch intervals 
and gently scrubbing with a soapy 
lather and a tooth brush. Let the 
soap remain on the scalp for a short 
period before rinsing it off. Scalp 
massage is also good. However, a 
serious case of dandruff is a skin 
disease and should be treated by a 
dermatologist. 

• HEARTBURN . . . mainly caused 
by the passing of acid from the 
stomach up into the esophagus. This 
backing up of acid is caused by ex- 
cessive belching in which gas or air 
is ejected. The acid irritates and 
causes heartburn. 

• TENNIS HEEL . . . this is the 
tender spot some people have under 
the heel. When walking or stand- 
ing, pain can be felt. Usually caused 
by repeated bruising while walking 
on a hard surface with light foot- 
wear, the malady can be cured by 
placing a pad of sponge rubber in 
the heel of your shoe. Another re- 
lief agency is the building up of the 
heel of the shoe and strapping the 
injured foot with adhesive tape to 
take the weight off the heel. 

• RELIEF FOR HAY FEVER SUF- 
FERERS ... a new drug, Predni- 
solone, has been discovered that has 
obtained good results in relieving 
hay fever. It is used as a spray, 



r ^T^ *W-'POW f CAN 




thus eliminating hypodermic injec 
tions. In a trial-Usting period, defi- 
nite results were obtained, all pa- 
tients showing various stages of im- 
provement. 
14 



• SO YOU'VE HAD A HEART AT- 
TACK . . . now that you've had the 
attack, there are two courses open 
to you. You can either worry your- 
self into another attack, probably 
fatal, or you can regard the situa- 
tion realistically and can actually 
benefit from it. 

First try to figure out what 
caused the attack. It couldn't have 
been work . . . hard labor never 
hurt anyone. Perhaps it was too 
much of "good living." Your doctor 
will take care of that by placing 
you on a better diet which will re- 
sult in better health. Just because 
you're a heavy smoker don't feel 
that the tobacco caused the attack. 
Heavy smoking is caused by ner- 
vousness, which could be the cause 
of the attack . . . not the cigarettes 
themselves. 

Now that you're bedridden, take 
stock of yourself. Think over your 
life and prepare to travel a better 
road after your recovery. 

• OOH. THAT SUNBURN . . . 

at last science has come up with 
something to combat painful sun- 
burn. A small pill made from sun- 
drenched fruit trees seems to be the 
solution. The aim is to speed the 
painful process of tanning. The 
drug, derived from fig and citrus 
trees, has been used by the Egyp- 
tians for centuries to deepen skin 
pigmentation. 

• REPLACE THAT TOOTH . . . 

when a tooth is removed from the 
mouth be sure tc have it replaced 
as soon as possible. When a tooth 
is removed, the neighboring teeth 
begin to shift in their sockets to- 
ward the empty space. As the shift- 
ing occurs, the upper and lower 
teeth gradually move from normal 
positions so that they are not 
aligned. Every time you chew, the 
increased pressure only accentuates 
the difficulty. Sooner or later they 
can become loose and infected. 
Pyorrhea and tooth decay are sure 
to result. There is only one cure . . . 
replace that tooth. 

• HEART RATE DURING SEX ACT 

. . -science has discovered that the 
enormous increase in both female 
and male heartbeat and breathing 
during intercourse makes the act 
dangerous to people who have re- 
covered from heart attacks. During 
the act, the heart which normally 
beats seventy times a minute, in- 



creases to a rate of 170-190 beats 
... a rate which is found only when 
doing the most violent of exercises. 
And the breathing rate triples. Ab- 
normal and skipped heartbeats also 
occur. Another discovery was that 
during intercourse, the increases 
and decreases in both partners was 
almost identical. 

• WATCH THOSE KISSES ... too 

much kissing can give you mononu- 
cleosis. This is an infection that 



v\& mr cRAZV HwonucIfq; 




affects the throat, glands, and pos- 
sibly the heart. 

• BIRTHMARKS ... the 'straw- 
berry birthmark" which is a bundle 
of dilated small blood vessels, tends 
to disappear with age. But should 
the mark show signs of growth, it 
is best to have it removed. This can 
be done either surgically or by 
freezing with carbon dioxide. 

• ON BLUSHING ... it was dis- 
covered that people who blush sel- 
dom are troubled with an acne 
(blackheads) condition of the skin. 
Nicotinic acid, which dilates blood 
vessels therebye causing flushes of 
the skin, was given to some suffer- 
ers. Their condition immediately 
improved. 

• HEARTBURN KEEP YOUAWAKE? 

. . .this is caused by acid from the 
stomach getting up into the esopha- 
gus, the tube which connects the 
mouth and stomach. This condition 
is particularly bad when you're 
asleep because the stomach acid is 
not being neutralized. The solution 
is raise the head of the bed so as to 
prevent the flow of acid into the 
esophagus 




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Love and romance are 
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I HOUSE OF VALENTINE, Dept. 1-8 
543 MADISON AVENUE, NEW YORK, N. Y. 10022 

| I am enclosing $ in CASH Q CHECK D M.O. Q 

| ONLY SUPERIOR QUALITY MATERIALS USED 
BEWARE OF INFERIOR IMITATIONS 



HOW 

MANY 


STYLE* 


SIZE 


FIRST 
COLOR 

CHOICE 


SECOND 

COLOR 
CHOICE 


PRICE 







































I am enclosing $2.00. Send balance C.O.D. 



| PRINT 

i 



ADDRESS _ 



CITY ft STATf 



15 



I HEARD THE SCREAMS even before I saw 
her. Then there she was, rushing along the 
street, her blouse and bra practically ripped off 
her body, flapping in torn shreds in the wind as 
she ran towards me. Behind her, a crowd of 
howling kids, their voices blended into a men- 
acing roar like a bloodhungry monster mob. 
Instinctively I reached out to grab her as she 
went by. And then she was next to me, huddled 
tight against my body, panting and trembling 
in terror. 

The Red Guard, China's kill-crazy maniacs 
were swirling toward us. I looked for a door- 
way, for anyplace that might give us refuge. I 
felt a handle behind me and tried to turn it It 
was locked. My eyes darted around, across the 
street No hope there. I'd never be able to drag 
her that far. We couldn't stay where we were. 
They'd be on us in seconds. I pulled at her 
wrist We had to get started. We had to run. 

I never got the chance. I hadn't taken two 
steps when I felt something crash into my shoul- 
der. I was stumbling forward, falling on my 
face. And then they were all over me. I com- 
pletely lost sight of the girl. She was blotted out 
as the human wave seemed to swamp out the 
world. A club was swinging downward. I raised 



up my arm to protect myself and felt the pain 
rifle through my body at the impact Something 
was coming at my head. For just a brief second 
I saw a grinning face poised in a frozen second 
of immobility. A large stick, like a golf club was 
swinging down. I wanted to yell. But no sound 
would come out of my mouth. Then the universe 
ended. There was a world of blackness. Nothing! 

I tried to open my eyes, but they didn't seem 
to want to work. Even when I did manage to 
force apart my eyelids, the fuzziness wouldn't go 
away. Things were still dark and they wouldn't 
focus. I thought there was someone else nearby, 
but I couldn't tell. And I couldn't even begin to 
guess where I was, or why. 

"You're coming around." The voice was posi- 
tive, Chinese and quite feminine. 

"Huh? Ooooooh," The last was a long, moan- 
ing sigh as the pain rushed back. Whatever it 
was, wherever I was, I didn't care. I hurt too 
much. 

"Relax. You're pretty banged up, but nothing's 
broken. I checked." At least the girl's voice 
sounded friendly. 

"Are you sure?" I asked lamely, "where am I? 
What happened?" (Continued on page 1 8) 



by OR. WALTHER MERHSTAFF 




HOW WE ESCAPED 

FROM RED CHINA 



"Quite sure, I'm a nurse." she 
answered. "The Red guards caught 
you. They gave you quite a beat- 
ing. But it's nothing serious. You're 
in my house. I found you right out- 
side my door and brought you in. 
You see, we Chinese are very senti- 
mental." 

I was beginning to focus again. I 
could see her now in the dimly lit 
room. She was quite pretty, too; 
high-breasted, long limbed and a 
rather sweet face. I give you the de- 
tails in the order I saw them. 
"Thanks," I said. "And by the way, 
there was a girl. Did you find her 
too?' 

The smile faded. "Oh that one! 
Yes. She's here. She had a much 
rougher time than you. They raped 
her. Many of them. But that doesn't 
kUl." She sniffed in a peculiar way. 
"I ought to know." 

"Oh!" was all I could think of 
saying. Then I lay back and shut 
my eyes again. I think I must have 
fallen asleep again. Because when I 
opened my eyes again it was quite 
obviously nighttime. Over across the 
room, only a single, dimly burning 
lamp was burning. 

"Feeling better now?" Her voice 
came from right next to me. 

I started to answer, then turned in 
surprise as I felt the nude, warm 
female body snuggling close to me, 
breasts and thighs pressing close 
against mine. "What the ..." I 
began. 

"Don't talk! Do! Act!" It was a 
command. 

In spite of everything, I felt myself 
beginning to respond to her warm 
nude form. I turned, instinctively to 
face her. And then she was every- 



where. She took the play away from 
me and I let myself go. I couldn't 
help it. For she was right. This was 
no time to think and I let her do 
with me as she liked. 

Afterwards, as we lay back she 
started talking. "You know you'll 
have to leave China." It was a 
statement, a fact. 

"How? Where?' 

"Your embassy. Can't you go 
there?' 

I snorted. "This isn't Peking or 
Shanghai," I told her. "We're a 
thousand miles from any embassy. 
And if these Red Guards of yours 
are a sample of what we can expect, 
it's just about impossible. Can't we 
stay here?' 

She laughed. "When you say WE, 
I suppose you're referring to that 
girl. Very well. No. You can't stay 
here. The guards will be back. They 
want no foreigners in Hsian. And if 
they find you here, they'll not only 
beat you again, they'll kill me for 
giving you refuge. No. You'll have 
to leave tonight." 

"Impossible!" I told her. "How 
the hell are we supposed to wander 
around in the middle of China? 
Who'd hide us? Who'd help us? 
We'd be caught and killed in twelve 
hours." 

"I'll help you all I can." 

"You will? Why? How can you." 

"Because you're a man," she 
laughed. "Because you're a good 
lover. Because for some very stupid 
reason, I like you. And I can do it, 
too. I have friends, many of them. 
But you're right. We'd never makeit 
to Peking. They'll be looking for 
you in that direction anyway. And 
even if you did make it, things are 



even worse in Peking. They'd kill 
you before you got anywhere near 
your embassy." 

"I'll take your word for it," I ans- 
wered. "All right then. We'll make 
a break for it tonight. But how? 
Where do we go." 

"Where, you can leave to me," 
she announced. "As to how, it's not 
easy, but it's quite practical. There's 
an automobile down the street. It 
belongs to a party official. You can 
operate a car, can't you?" 

I nodd ed. 
" TJ/E'LL STEAL IT. Head for 
TT the centerofthecity. There's 
a flood sewer there. We go down 
into it. Don't worry, I've been in it 
before. It leads to the Yellow River. 
There's a boat hidden by the outlet. 
We take it and float away." 

"Why do we have to steal the car? 
Why can't we just walk?' 

"The night watch," she answered 
coldly. "They're everywhere. We'd 
be spotted before we got anywhere 
near it. We'll be spotted anyway, 
but they can't outrun an automo- 
bile." 

"What difference does that make?" 
I grumbled. "They'llbeabletophone 
in and there'll be roadblocks up in 
minutes." 

She laughed aloud. "This is not 
Germany, my friend. This is China. 
What telephones are you talking 
about. There's one in the command 
post But that's three miles from 
here. There'll be no phone calls, no 
roadblocks. So we'll do it my way, 
agreed?' 

While Li- Lin, my rescuer from no 
place went .to prepare the European 
girl, I dressed and tried to remem- 
ber what I knew about starting a car 



From a city esplanade, the ancient Yellow River valley The City of Hsian, deep in central China, where Dr. Mehrstaff worked 
spreads out, with river traffic slowly floating along, as a missionary physician until forced to leave by the Red Guards. 





At Hochu, the last town in north China before reaching the ancient wall 
that borders Mongolia, we tied up our river boat and jumped ashore. 



without the key. It was a matter of 
crossing the ignition wires; I only 
hoped I'd be able to do it in the 
dark. Good medical training does 
not necessarily make one a good car 
thief. However, Li- Lin was a nurse. 
Perhaps she'd at least beableto furn- 
ish me with some instruments. 

The girls returned a few moments 
later and we promptly started off. 
We slipped out of the door into a 
night that seemed black as the pitch 
of hell. There was a light wind blow- 
ing that I could feel tingling against 
the back of my neck like some eerie 
finger of a ghost. I shivered invol- 
untarily as Li- Lin slipped ahead of 
me and motioned me on. We bent 
low and ran, keeping our shadows 
down against the darker base of the 
buildings. 

Then I saw it, an old-fashioned 
Russian car, a remnant of the days 
when Moscow and Peking were on 
friendlier terms. I practically sighed 
with relief. I'd driven one of those 
in Leipzig and I felt I knew it 
through and through. Motioning 
the two girls inside, I slipped the 
wires, crossed them and touched the 
accelerator. The motor roared into 
life. 

If I live a hundred years I never 
want to go through a drive like that 
one, screaming down the narrow 
streets of a Chinese city, with no 
lights, while all around me, at every 
turn windows flew up and people 
shouted. Our route was being marked 
plainly as if we were drawing a map 
for any pursuers. 

Twice we were fired on by sentries, 
no doubt after howling at us to stop, 
though I never actually heard them. 
One of the shots missed us completely. 



The second passed right through 
both windshields, spattering glass 
everywhere. How the flying slivers 
missed us was more of a miracle 
than the bullet's erratic flight. 

We reached a small square, and 
Li- Lin shouted at me to pull up. 
"Over there," she pointed. "Get the 
manhole cover up. Hurry. There'll 
be a mob here in a minute." 

I slipped the heavy plate aside, 
then reached over and helped Ta- 
mara, the European girl down after 
me. "Li- Lin, come on, damn it. Hur- 
ry." 

"Just a minute," she called and 
then, running over to the abandoned 
car, she opened the gastank, lit a 
match and dropped it in. The car 
went up with a whooshing roar of 
flame. "That'll give them something 
to keep busy with for a few min- 
utes," she smiled smugly. "By the 
time they discover we're not burn- 
ing up inside, we'll have a good head 
start." She wriggled into the sewer 
and I grunted as I dragged the heavy 
cover over it. 

It stank. I felt the vomit gulping 
up my throat as the odor of decay- 
ing garbage and thick human ex- 
crement bubbled up from the lumpy 
bilge below. And then we dropped 
into it, our feet and legs. We were 
covered with it half way up to our 
knees. I had to fight to keep from 
gagging. 

We sloshed forward, Li-Lininthe 
lead, her hand holding- mine, while 
I held onto Tamara. It seemed end- 
less, and to make matters worse, it 
was absolutely and totally black 
down there. Only the odor and the 
soft lapping of the horrifying goo 
as it slid down the runnel toward 



the river kept us from feeling lost in 
an empty eternity of nothingness. 

But Li- Lin knew the way, only 
too evidently and about a half an 
hour later, we slipped out of the 
tunnel into the clear, beautiful fresh 
air. 

"Down here," the Chinese girl whis- 
pered. "Slip into the water and rinse 
off. The boat's to the left only a 
little way." 

I could have spent an hour in the 
river and not felt clean again. But 
after two or three minutes of ducking 
and rinsing, Li- Lin had us up again 
and moving toward the boat. She 
slipped the mooring and the boat 
drifted off, out into the slow, five- 
mile current and down the river. 

Five hundred and thirty miles from 
Hsian to the Outer Mongolian Re- 
public's border. It was one hell of a 
trip. The first morning, Li-Lin put 
ashore, someforty miles downstream 
where someone — we were never al- 
lowed to meet them— lent us some 
Chinese peasant clothes. After that, 
some hundreds of yards out in the 
stream, I suppose we looked indis- 
tinguishable from the hundreds of 
other boat families that ply this old 
and busy river. 

It was easy that first day, as we 
merely drifted down the sidestream. 
But by afternoon, when we reached 
the junction with the main branch of 
the Yellow, things changed. We 
turned north, upstream, in the gen- 
eral direction of the river source. And 
now there was no current to carry us 
forward. Every inch of motion was 
supplied by muscle power; pole and 
push; pole and push, over and over 
again. Maybe three yards for every 
push, nearly six hundred polings to 
a mile. Even with the girls helping— 
and in China that's only the natural 
thing for women to do, it was sheer 
hell. 

THE MILES WERE endless; so 
were the days. We passed the 
time telling each other about our 
lives; mine as a missionary doctor, 
born just before the war, growing 
up first through the horrors of Hit- 
ler and the bombings; then as a 
prisoner of the Qommunists; devot- 
ing myself to my profession and the 
urge to help the misery of the world. 
Tamara— Tamara Alexandrovna, a 
teacher, a girl who knew nothing 
but communism, but who hadn't a 
political thought in her head, a stu- 
dent of the Russian language who 
had come to China to bring a rap- 
port between her country and it's 
vast neighbor to the east. Li-Lin, a 
nurse but who's only thought was 
men, who had twice gotten intotroub- 
le because of her sexuality, first los- 
ing her position in a Shanghai hos- 
pital; then, a year later being fired 
from a similar position in Nanching, 
after an affair with amarrieddoctor, 
caused the man's wife to go op a 
(Continued on page iS) 



SEXUAL RESEARCH 



BEWARE 
OF THE 
QUACKS 

WHO ARE 
GASHING / 

IN ON THE 




Dr. William H. Masters and Mrs. Virginia Johnson, the pioneering researchers 
who introduced a new scientific technique into the field of sex investigation. 



JOHNSON MASTERS REPORT 



by STERLING ROGERS 

THE BOOK, Human Sexual Response, ex- 
ploded on the American scene like a rocket — 
hitting best seller lists throughout the nation, 
providing new and revolutionary insights into 
the fascinating mysteries of sex. It showed peo- 
ple how they could overcome frigidity and im- 
potence, how they could attain new pleasures 
and increased satisfaction in their sexual activi- 
ties. 

As important and as controversial as the find- 
ings of Dr. William A Masters and his assistant 
Virginia Johnson, however, were the revolution- 
ary techniques used to gather material for the 
book. For the first time scientists directly ob- 
served couples engaged in the act of love. They 
noted every movement, gauged every reaction, 
20 



measured every heartbeat and palpitation of 
men and women straining against each other 
during sexual intercourse. 

Not only did they watch, but they took motion 
pictures in technicolor in order that they might 
record movements and changes in skin color. 
At the same time they developed special devices 
such as an artificial penis with camera inside 
that enabled them to take pictures inside a wom- 
an's vagina. Another was what they referred to 
as an "automanipulative device" which is said 
to bring about a more intense orgasmic response 
cycle in a woman than she can attain with a 
man. 

While it is still too early to evaluate the full 
impact of the Masters-Johnson studies, it is not 
too early to note that (Continued on page US) 



Since the startling report was first published, dozens of 
other organizations have picked up the technique of using 
real couples under observation, some of them, unfortunately 
are using the resulting photographs for illegal purposes! 






K 





In a makeshift morgue in Arequipa, Peru, the mutilated bodies of some of those killed in the quake wait for identification. 





> 



Blocks of masonry lie in a side street. 
Left side of street was demol ished, but 

-Th 

upper floors of this building toppled 
crashing through ceiling and trapping a 
family of six persons inside the house. 



It wasn't like anything that a normal human being could 
hope to understand. The ground heaved and buckled; the 
earth kept opening and shutting like a giant mouth trying 
to eat its victims and the thunderous roar never stopped! 



; 


^L-) V" - Nfl 


• * 


i * 


- 


■ 



Pti? 




Left, an Indian mother weeps over the body of her dead 
child as she sits in her quake torn house. In the town 
hospital (above) a more fortunate mother weeps by her 
son's bedside. He was among the hundreds who were hurt. 



by R. W. SHELLABARGER 



OLTING UPRIGHT, I stared incredulously as the 
picture of the Virgin above the bed plunged down, 
smashing on my shoulder. 

Now the wall in front of me began to crack down the 
middle. I heard a creaking sound from the stairs beyond 
the door, then a grinding, splintering noise as the en- 
tire stairway collapsed. The room twisted to the right 
toward the street. 

I lurched toward the window, trying desperately to 
steady myself by holding onto the huge bed. The room 
seemed to be lifting up on one end, its contents slam- 
ming backward toward the collapsed stairwell. In the 
confusion of that first frenzied moment, I managed 
somehow to get back into my pants. That was all I 
wore, the only thing I could recover. My valuables- 
wallet, passport, everything— tumbled into that grind- 
ing, sloping pile of adobe wreckage. 

Crawling on my hands and knees toward the window, 
I hooked my arm over the sill. I had to reach Elena. 
A thickening cloud of white dust rolled up the floor as 
the rear wall collapsed. Choking, paralyzed with fright, 
I clutched the sill trying to remain in that position. For 
a few hideous seconds, I had a hell of a ringside seat 



at my own sudden death. 

It was 11:30 A.M., Tuesday, January 14, 1960. The 
American Hotel in Arequipa, Peru, was a regular stop- 
over for oilmen on leave from the fields of Talara. 
Once every eighteen months, four weeks of freedom 
was decreed for guys to retrieve their sanity in civili- 
zation. No oil-stinking clothes, no limestone desert, no 
derricks. A lot of men flew to the States and others 
contented themselves with the civilization of Lima. 
Those who headed for the States invariably stopped at 
the American Hotel. It was par for the course and I was 
no exception when it came to keeping the faith. 

It wasn't much of a hotel, the name notwithstanding. 
Amos Vara, who operated it, knew about as much hos- 
pitality as he did tending his rinkydink bar. A formei 
wildcatter and rigger in the big limestone fields to the 
south, Vara's declining years were spent drinking up 
his own liquor in the downstairs cantina. If the cus- 
tomer happened to be an oilman, nobody else got any 
service. He was a good guy. He ran his hotel like a 
flea circus, but that was fine with the guys who knew 
and liked him. 

"Amigo," he pumped my (Continued on page 48) 






Say "Hello There" to our lovely 

Christina Scott, a brown-haired 

model who has only one, real 

ambition, to look beautiful! 



X/ 



El 







24 



■SF*N- 




f 








WiWM 



Christina, a model for the past 
two years has posed for the top 
names in art and photography. And 
fl\ why not. Everyone appreciates a 
smooth, sleek 36-23-36" figure! 





27 



TREASURE IN THE 

SWAMP OF DEATH 



There's a lot more than a million dollars still buried in 
that swamp. We know exactly where it is, practically to 
the inch. But we can't go back. It would be sure death for 
us. And who can we possibly trust for that kind of dough! 




Chota (left) and Huanca, our two Cusquipa Indian hot tamales, who kept us occupied during the time we were searching 



and draining out the swamp. Right-We check the banks of Lake Guacum, under which the Spanish treasure was hidden. 



by RAYS. McGLOTHLIAN 



CHOTA WOKE ME up at mid- 
night "I want to make love 
again . . ." the little Cusquipa whis- 
pered nuzzling my ear with her nose. 

"OK," I said. "But this is posi- 
tively the last time tonight" 

I meant it A man can't make love 
all night and have the strength to dig 
for gold the next day. 

Chota wrapped her arms around 
my neck. A moment later her supple 
coppery body was vibrant with exo- 
tic passion .... 

An hour after dawn Chota and 
Huanca— Mel vin Delgado's little 
Cusquipa — began to prepare our 
breakfasts. 

Meanwhile Mel and I sat in the 
shade of Mel's tent and looked at 
the Door of the little Venezuelan lake 
we'd drained so that we could dig 
up the Spanish gold which was bur- 
ied under centuries of muck. 

"We'll have it made in a month," 
28 



Mel said happily, "even after you 
figure Uncle Sam's take." 

"I'm going to hate to leave Chota," 
I said, turning toward the exotic lit- 
tle Cusquipa and reflected that I'd 
never known a woman who could 
even begin to stack up with this lit- 
tle cute doll. 

I was still thinking about her 
lovemaking talents when Mel nudged 
me. I looked out toward the jungle. 
Chief Quicaca and four of his men 
were coming toward our camp. 
"Hi . . . !" I said, waving at Qui- 
caca. 

This little Cusquipa was no or- 
dinary jungle native. He had an 
education. He spoke Spanish and 
he wore civilized man's pants and 
shirt And a pair of Webley .455 re- 
volvers were neatly tucked in his hip 
holsters. 

I liked him. He had helped us drain 
the lake and he had furnished us 
with Chota and Huanca. "To make 
your dreams more pleasant," he 
had said with a sly wink. 

"You're just in time for breakfast," 



I said, extending a cigarette to Qui- 
caca after he and the other Cusquipas 
came into the camp. "I'll get a bot- 
tle of " 

I didn't say the rest Quicaca flipped 
out his Webleys. The muzzle of one 
of these British Army weapons was 
pointed at my guts. The other at 
Mel's. "Bring me the gold you have 
retrieved," he said. 

With the spear of one of Quicaca's 
zombies scratching my spine I went 
into my tent and brought out a can- 
vas bag. Then I got the gold from 
Mel's tent 

"Now eatyour breakfast and begin 
digging!" Quicaca said. "From this 
moment you are working for me!" 

I didn't ask what would happen to 
us when he'd dug up the last of the 
gold. I could see the answer in Qui- 
caca's eyes. "So your friendship was 
just a pretense," I said, glaring at 
the little zombie. 

"Yes, amigo, it was a pretense," 
Quicaca said, laughing. He trans- 
lated this to the other zombies. They 
thought it was hilarious, too. 



While those treacherous little devils 
were tearing themselves apartlaugh- 
ing Mel suddenly swooped up a stick 
of dynamite and lit its fuse with the 
match with which he had been light- 
ing a cigarette. "Drop your guns," 
he said to Quicaca who had quit 
laughing. "And I'll throw the dyna- 
mite into the lake . . . and don't 
think that shooting me will save 
you . . . you won't be able to get 
here and throw this dynamite before 
it goes off." 

Quicaca couldn't take his little 
black eyes off the sputtering fuse. 
The muscles in his face twitched. "We 
have nothing to lose," Mel said. 

He wasn't bluffing. Sudden anni- 
hilation would be better than what- 
ever Quicaca would do to us after 
we'd dug out the gold. 

Quicaca stood it for another sec- 
ond. Then he flung the Webleys onto 
the ground. 

Immediately Mel hurled the dyna- 
mite toward the lake and dived to 
the ground and swooped up one 
of the Webleys. Meanwhile I beat 



the zombies to the other one 

TWO OF THE zombies tried to 
take it away from me. I shot one 
in the face. His friend quickly got 
the idea and backed away and be- 
gan to wipe the dead zombie's brains 
off his chest 

Then the dynamite exploded. Qui- 
caca looked at its cascade of mud 
and debris for a couple moments 
before he said, "You haven't ac- 
complished a thing. You'll never 
get out of this jungle alive. My peo- 
ple . . ." 

"You're going with us," Mel said, 
"just to make sure we get out So 
tell your boys to inform your peo- 
ple that ifwedon'tmakeit— youdon't 
make it" 

Mel and I watched thezombies fade 
into the jungle, then he said, "Let's 
get the hell out of here." 

The girls, who had watched the 
whole drama with blanched faces, 
helped us pack up. 

Ten minutes later, with Quicaca 
loaded down even heavier than our 
two pack mules, we began to plod 



through the Muerto Swamp toward 
the Caribbean port village of Tocuyo 
de la Costa. 

"What's our chances?" I said in 
English. 

" I wish I knew," Mel said grimly. 
"But" he added tight-lipped, "I'm 
damn sure of one thing ... if we 
don't survive this trip, Quicaca won't 
either. I notched a bullet especially 
for that little devil. It'll tear him 
apart" 

An hour later, dripping sweat and 
fighting the swamp's mud and in- 
sects— and worried that at any mo- 
ment a spear would hurtle into my 
back— I cursed the day I'd gotten 
involved in this fantastic adventure. 

Mel and I had operated the M & S 
Service Garage on Cincinnati's 7th 
Street an enterprise with more debts 
than profit 

Mel's hobby had been reading 
about the explorers of the Spanish 
Main on the northern coasts of Pana- 
ma, Venezuela and Columbia. He 
said he had an inherited interest in 
this phase of South America's his- 
(Continued on page 50) 



HOW I TRIED LOVE WITH 
ANOTHER WOMAN 



I wanted to find out for 
myself whether the thrill 
that "they" offered was 
as good as what I'd known! 




<0\> 




by KAREN DeL— - 

1HAD ALWAYS known that my cousin Lor- 
raine was a female homosexual, but it had 
never really bothered me. If I thought anything 
about it, it was a sense of surprise that such a 
beautiful, rich-figured, vivacious, charming and 
happy woman could live a life of apparent com- 
pleteness without men. For myself it seemed im- 
possible. Sexual relations were something I rel- 
ished and without a man, physical pleasure 
seemed utterly inconceivable. Yet my cousin Lor- 
raine was always friendly and fun to have 
around. She was a first-rate companion to talk 
to, and a good pal in every respect. I never dis- 
cussed her personal habits with her and she 
never commented on mine. It was better 
that way. 

Yet there were times when I wondered about 
it; perhaps after a particularly difficult argument 
with my husband, or on the opposite extreme, 
after a magnificent love session when lying back, 
content and totally satisfied my mind kept teas- 
ing as I tried to imagine what she could know 
that was anything like what I had just experi- 
enced. 

If I did ask, nine times out of ten, she'd mere- 
ly grin and brush it off with some lighthearted 
comment. There was a barrier that neither of us 
could really break through. 

But on this particular day there was some- 
thing different. My husband was away on an 
extended business trip and for some reason or 
another my own feelings of sex need and frus- 
tration were almost surface raw. I was in the 
type of mood that leads many women into ill- 
considered pickup affairs, anything that will 
give some relief to a most basic requirement. I 
was ready to explode and I guess Lorraine saw 
it written all over me. 

"Bad huh!" she remarked. 

"You wouldn't know," I answered crossly. 
"You've never had a man. How could you un- 
derstand what it's like to be without one." 

"Why don't you tell me, then," she said softly. 

I was feeling just bitchy enough to want to 
hurt, so I let go, all out, in the plainest four 
letter words I knew. I surprised myself. I didn't 
know I could reveal my innermost thoughts and 
sensations so uninhibitedly. I held nothing back 
from her and when I'd finished I was practi- 
cally sobbing. 

Lorraine just looked at me for a few minutes, 
smiling almost sadly, nodding her head. "What 
makes you think I'm so different?" she finally 
asked. "Don't you (Continued on page SO) 



-S ■ 



Two young Filipinos who were pari 

of the guerrila movement on Luzon 

finally find time for relaxation 

and romance after the return of the 

American forces had forced the Japs 

to abandon the occupation of island. 



Americans and guerrilas join forces to attack 
a native house where Japanese forces are 
living. The isolated building was destroyed, 
and the occupying soldiers totally 



Kp*tyMJwM| .t/v I 



The odds against them 

seemed totally impossible 

but even so, the idea of 

surrender was even worse. 

So the two of them, alone, 

started out to organize 

a resistance to fight the 

Japs for as long as either 

of them remained alive! 



' 'V. 



KILLERS OF LUION 



W^ 



.-." r 




*m-* 





An American soldier comes on the corpse of a Japanese machine gunner who was killed in his jungle hiding place. 



by LEN HUMBOLDT 



ECHNICAL SERGEANT James Kennedy 

cursed silently. He had needed three rounds to 
kill the Japanese straggler. 

The Nip was dead — but now Jim Kennedy had 
only four cartridges left. And, what was worse, 
the enemy soldier had been unarmed. Jim could 
not even loot another weapon and ammunition 
from the corpse. 

The tall, leathery American pushed his way 
through the matted underbrush until he reached 
the sprawled body of the Jap. He squatted down 
beside the dead man and searched through the 
pockets of his torn and blood-stained uniform. 



"Damn it!" Kennedy cursed again. The bast- 
ard doesn't even have an identity card I" 

Jim straightened up. Moving cautiously, he 
edged back into the jungle. A moment later, he 
reached a barely discernible trail and walked along 
it rapidly for several minutes. When the trail made 
a sudden and sharp turn to the right, he halted and 
whistled softly. He waited until he heard an an- 
swering whistle, and then continued on his way. 

The girl was waiting for him a few dozen yards 
beyond the bend in the trail. Slender, lovely, she 
stood between two large trees. 

"What luck?" she asked. (Continued on page 52) 



PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT 



An actress is called upon to play 
many parts in each of which she 
must project a picture. But what 
can Ann Loring project that's 
more fascinating than herself! 






25-year old Ann Loring, a native 
of Pennsylvania, is 5' 6" tall, 
blonde, blue-eyed, and the proud 
owner of a figure that's 35-24-36! 

PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT 



•*w 









k 



, V- *-AT 



37 



It was the greatest collection 



dian fighters ever brought together in the U.S.A.! 



THIRTY- 
TWO MEN 
AGAINST 
RED CLOUD 



by FRANK COUCH 

IT was the second day of August, 1867. The 
Powder River Valley was silent and the 
early sun cast ominous shadows across the 
foothills of the Rockies. 

Smitty, a scout for the 27th United States 
Infantry was a few feet behind his partner 
when he first noticed the abrupt silence and 
understood its meaning. Then hi saw the war 
party. 

"Jim!" Smitty whispered urgently to his 
partner. Jim's finger eased on the trigger of 
his Spencer carbine. The deer he had been 
holding in rifle sights vanished into the brush. 

The' two men lay quietly, watching the 
Sioux until they disappeared in the brush 
along the game trial. 

"That was close," Jim whispered. "What 
should we do?" 

"I don't know," Smitty replied. "Looks like 
the woods are full of Sioux." 

As they lay there, hardly daring to breathe, 
more and more Indians came into view — all 
heading in the same direction as the first 
party. 

"Red Cloud must be up to something," 
Smitty whispered. "Ever since he butchered 
Fetterman's patrol last December, he's been 
itching to catch more of the garrison out in 
the open." 

"Do we try for the fort?" Jim said. 

Smitty shook his head. "By this time some 
brave has caught our (Continued on page 66) 
38 



scouts could sea the fight at the wood-cutter's 
camp. But they couid also see the huge force of 
Sioux coming up along the ridge and they realized 
that in a few more minutes the cutters would be dead. 




39 



There it was, a whole German payroll right under our noses. 
Sure we took it. Wouldn't you have done exactly the same! 



V 



•mnm 



x 



. & 










We saw the Tiger tank at about the sbme instant as 
; the first shell exploded against us. "Traverse," 

( ) Dawson shouted desperately. "We can't," came the 

answer, "©ur turret's jammed from the money sacks." 



\A 



>*^ 



- ♦ 



»HE CO. of the 36th Tank Battalion first men- 
. tioned this story to me, in late February of 1945. 
Ail he knew was that some tank patrol had run into 
■a German pay truck full of money, and had taken a 
load of Reichsmarks back with them. 

It had happened to a Second Lieutenant in Able 
Company, named Dawson. He and three tanks had 
been out on a routine patrol. 

Trouble was that Dawson was back in a field hos- 
pital near Metz, and his tank crew were all dead. It 
looked like the end of the line on this story. Even so, 
it still was worth one last try. Maybe the division's 
, medics would know which hospital, and where it was. 



They guessed it was the 1403rd Field Hospital, near 
Metz. It was a long ride back, and probably a wild- 
goose chase, but I went anyhow. 

Luck was with me, and I finally found this Dawson. 
He was there, flat on his back, wrapped in bandages 
with one arm in a cast. They told me that he had 
second-degree burns, a broken arm, and was just over 
a bad case of shock. 

To this day, I don't know what Dawson really looks 
like. His face was half covered with yellow, oiled gauze 
over his burns. He had brown eyes and spoke like a 
well-educated man. He was a young man, apparently 
in his mid-20's. (Continued on page US) 




STATEMENT OF OWNERSHIP, 

MANAGEMENT AND CIRCULATION 

(Act of Octobet 3. 1062. Section 4379. Title 39. 

United States Code) 

1. Dale of Filing: October 1, 1966 

2. Title of Publication: Real Men 
i3. Frequency of Issue: 

Monthly except Apr., Aug.. and Dec. 

4, Location of Known Office of Publication (Street. City, 
County. State. Zip Code): 261 Fifth Ave.. N.Y.. N.Y., 
NY.. 10016 

5, Location of Headquarter! or General Business Offices 
of the Publisher. (Not Printers): 261 Fifth Ave.. New York 
NY. 10016 

6, Names and Addresses of Publisher. Editor and Man- 
aging Editor. 

Publisher Stanley Publications, Inc.. 261 Fifth Ave., 
New York. N.Y. 10016 

Editor: Theodore S. Hecht, 261 Fifth Ave.. New York, 
N.Y. 10016 

Managing Editor: Michael Morse. 261 Fifth Ave.. New 
York, N.Y. 10016 

7, Owner (If owned by a corporation, its name and ad- 
dress must be stated and also immediately therunder the 
names and addresses of stockholders owning or holding 
1 percent or more of total amount of such stock. If not 
owned by a corporation, the names and addresses of thi 
individual owners must be given. If owned by a partnership 
or other unincorporated firm, its name and add 
as that of each Individual must be given. 

STANLEY PUBLICATIONS. INC.. 261 Fifth Ave., New 
York. N.Y. 10016 

Stanley P. Morse, 261 Fifth Ave.. New York, N.Y. 10016 
Michael Morse. 261 Fifth Ave., New York. N.Y. 10016 

8, Known bondholders. Mortgagees, and other security 
holders owning or holding 1 percent or more of total amounl 
of bonds, mortgages, or other securities (If there are none, 
so state): None 

9, Paragraphs 7 and 8 include, in cases where the stock- 
holder or security holder appears upon the books of the 
company as trustee or in any other fiduciary relation, the 
name of the person or corporation for whom such trustee ii 
acting, also the statements In the two paragraphs show th< 
affiant's full knowledge and belief as to the circumstance: 
and conditions under which stockholders and security holder: 
who do not appear upon the books of the company a! 
trustees, hold stock and securities in a capacity other than 
that of a bona fide owner. Names and addresses of indf 
duals who are stockholders or holders of bonds, mortgages 
other securities of the publishing corporation have been in- 
cluded in paragraphs 7 and 8 when the interests of such 
Individuals are equivalent to 1 percent or more of the total 
amount of the publishing corporation, 

10, This item must be completed for all publications ex< 
cept those which do not carry advertising other than the 
publisher's own and which are named in sections 132.231 
132.232 and 132.233. Postal Manual (Sections 4355a and 
4355b and 4356 of Title 39. United States Code). 

Average no. copies Single issu< 

each issue during nearest to 

preceding 12 months filing date 

A. Total No. Copies Printed 

(Net Press Run) 185.689 179.958 

B. Paid Circulation 

1. Sales through dealers 
and carriers, street vendors 
and counter sales 86,846 64.777 

2. Mail Subscriptions 

C. Total Paid Circulation 86,854 64,786 

D. Free Distribution (including 
samples) by mail, carrier 
or other means 50 

E. Total distribution (sum of 
C and D) 86,904 

F. Office Use, Left-Over, Un- 
accounted. Spoiled After 
Printing 98.785 115.12S 

C. Total (sum of E & F- 
should equal net press 
run shown in A) 185,689 179,95* 

I certify that the statements made by me above are correct 
and complete. (Signature nf editor, publisher, business man- 
ager or owner). 



fight birth defects join 
MARCH OF DIMES 



42 



ESCAPED RED CHINA 

(Continued from page 19} 

shooting rampage in which the doc- 
tor and three hospital officials were 
killed; banished to the backcountry 
Hsian, unable to practice her pro- 
fession and forced to work as a fac- 
tory laborer who had finally become 
a secret rebel against the regime, 
ah active participant of the anti-com- 
munist Chinese underground. 

I was only too aware of Li- Lin's 
needs. The only male in the group, 
she made it quite clear that our safe- 
ty depended on keeping her happy 
and contented. Even the presence 
of Tamara didn't stop her. The Rus- 
sian girl, shocked at first, turned 
away in the other direction in the 
beginning, but after a week stopped 
either pretending or caring, what she 
saw or what we did. 

And then suddenly one day, Li- Lin 
snapped alert. We were alongside a 
town at the time she exclaimed ur- 
gently, " Hochu! We must put ashore 
here. We can't go on beyond the 
town. There's a chain across the 
river just above the city and there 
are soldiers. Over there," she waved 
north, "is the Wall and the desert. 
We must try to slip through on land. 
No one can follow the river any fur- 
ther. It is forbidden. Pull ashore, but 
try to get as far toward the north 
end of the city as you can. We'll 
wait till night and then try for the 
Gobi." 

I was scared— even more than 
scared. Maybe all those quiet days 
on the river had lulled me into a 
sense of false security, but now sud- 
denly I was aware that I was still 
in China, and that even if we suc- 
ceeded in getting through, we'd be 
in the emptiest, most desolate waste 
on earth, alone, helpless, without 
food or water. 

But there was nothing" else we could 
do. We fiddled around, delaying 
until twilight, and then, just at the 
end of day we slipped onto the west- 
ern bank, tied up the boat as if we 
were just going into town and walk- 
ed away. 

It was too much to hope that we'd 
make it without any trouble. We 
had gone maybe five miles north, 
when the voice rang out quite clear- 
ly, "Halt! Who are you! Stop or 
I'll shoot!" 

"Walther, drop down, out of 
sight," Li- Lin's whisper was urgent, 
curt. 

I did as I was told, dropping to 
the dusty earth and flattening myself 
against the ground. 

" Try to come up behind him while 
I keep him occupied. But don't let 
him shoot. A shot will bring half a 
company." And Li-Lin, her arms 
upraised, with Tamara concealed in 
her shadow behind her walked slow- 



ly toward the soldier. 

I heard her start to flirt with him, 
teasing that he had nothing to fear 
from a peasant woman. She lifted 
up her skirt. It was almost dainty 
the way she did it, but I could see 
the soldier's eyes turn down and rivet 
on her body. Then quietly, trying to 
remember everything I'd been taught 
in the gymnasium and military train- 
ing, I slithered over theground. Dam- 
mit it was slow. And at every move- 
ment, the hiss of the sandy soil 
against my body seemed to crash out 
louder than a band of kettledrums. It 
just didn't seem possible for the sol- 
dier not to hear me. It was a long 
circle up behind the man, until I was 
within inches of him. I got to my 
knees, slowly. And then I jumped 
him, leaping across his back, my 
arms grabbing for his hands and 
his gun. 

For a second as he fell forward, 
crashing over onto the ground, I 
thought I had him. And then he 
turned, right in my grasp, his heavy- 
booted feet kicking out. 

IT CRASHED INTO my shin. I 
grunted and one of my arms slip- 
ped off him. As quick as a snake he 
wrenched away and lashed his fist 
into my face. I was practically reel- 
ing. I punched back. It felt good as 
my fist slammed into his neck just 
under his jaw. It was his turn to 
sag. I let go another smash, deep 
into his gut. He doubled up retching 
before I could straighten him up 
with another crash to the jaw. His 
mouth opened. Bloodied teeth fell 
out. I was afraid he was going to 
yell, so I brought up my knee right 
into his crotch. 

The only sound that came out of 
him was a thin, wailing gasp. He 
bent over, drooling bloody saliva 
and vomit. I crashed both my fists 
down across the back of his neck. 
He dropped like a stone. 

I wanted to leave him there, but I 
didn't dare chance his coming to and 
giving the alarm. I pulled back my 
foot and kicked at his head and 
neck till I was certain his spinal cord 
was broken. I dragged him off a hun- 
dred yards into the dry dust and 
dropped his limp body behind ahill. 
They'd find him in the morning of 
course, but by then, we'd be long 
gone— I hoped. 

We had a rifle and ammunition 
now and an empty road ahead, into 
the desert through the gap the sen- 
try was supposed to have guarded. 

That wasn't quite the end of our 
troubles, but the rest was almost 
anti-climactic. The Gobi is as vast 
as it is empty. We wandered around, 
like lost goats in the wilderness for 
two days. And then, half dead from 
hunger and thirst, we were. picked 
up by wandering tribesmen. The 
nomads cared less about Mao Tse 
Tung than they did about any offi- 



cial from China. Hospitality is as 
old as the Gobi. Any lost traveler 
would receive the same treatment — 
provided there were no soldiers with- 
in rifle distance. 

We were passed north, from tribe 
to tribe. Until finally, one day we 
crossed the unmarked border be- 
tween Inner and Outer Mongolia. We 
were in Russian controlled territory 
now, and as refugees from China we 
were admitted. 

Li-Lin stayed in Ulan Bator. A 
hopital in the Mongoliancapitalwas 
only too delighted to find a uni- 
versity trained nurse. Tamara, re- 



turned to Russia where she no doubt 
took up her teaching career again. 
I hope they're both happy. 

I returned to East Germany. How 
I managed to wrangle a passport 
to visit Sweden is another story en- 
tirely, but today I'm a free man 
again. I've had enough of commu- 
nism. Whether it's the terror of the 
Chinese variety, or the all-encom- 
passing blanket of East German op- 
pression makes little difference. The 
only salvation for mankind is to 
fight back. A Chinese nymphoma- 
niac taught me that. And it'salesson 
that I'll never forget. •_ 



MONEY TO BURN 

(Continued from page 41) 

He was in command of the second 
platoon, in the light tank company. 
They had been having pretty good 
luck in the advance down into the 
Rhineland. On February 20th, they 
had moved into the village of Rinden, 
not far into Germany from Naastricht 
and the Dutch border. 

The Germans seemed to be in full 
retreat. It was like a parade, following 
after them. His platoon was in fine 
shape. They had been lucky, and they 
were a good team. "Best in the divi- 
sion," he said with satisfaction. 

And then this patrol job had been 
wished on him. He had looked forward 
to a day of rest. His men could use a 
day of quiet, in one place. They had 
expected to have time to look around, 
and see what was inside some of the 
German houses they usually just pass- 
ed by. Fraternizing was forbidden, 
too, but everybody did it. A good offi- 
cer looked the other way, sometimes. 
But no, Division wanted a patrol to- 
morrow. 

"Aimee." his own tank, had to go, of 
course. She had the command channel 
radio— the only one that could transmit 
and receive over a distance of more 
than a few miles. The orders were to 
patrol east as far as possible, to make 
contact with the retreating Krauts. It 
might be a long way. 

They were to try to locate the near- 
est German position, and try to esti- 
mate its strength. A real day's work, 
that looked like, with the Krauts back- 
ing away rapidly. But there was no 
choice. Grumbling and grousing, the 
men were set to work. 

Three tanks were chosen to go, out 
of the platoon's five. If all five went, 
it would look like an attack. The Krauts 
might let a patrol go by without start- 
ing a fight, but they'd surely fight if 
they thought it was an attack. He had 
decided that with "Aimee" he would 
take "Arthritis" and "Awful." At least, 
the crews of the other two tanks would 
have a day off. Sergeant Crosby in 
"Arthritis," and Sergeant Reinstein in 
"Awful" were good men to have along. 
They were the best of his tank com- 
manders. 

At dawn, the three tanks moved out 
towards the east, engines mu fried down 
to a quiet thrum. In the lead was 
Dawson, swaying in his turret hatch as 



he leaned on his elbows and peered 
through binoculars at the winding, nar- 
row road ahead. Behind him, at 100- 
yard intervals, the other two tanks 
followed. 

Every now and then, Dawson spoke 
into his throat microphone, calling the 
other tanks to move up, or to wait. 
Every quarter-hour, he switched his 
radio to the command channel, and re- 
ported back to headquarters, describ- 
ing what he saw. Then he would switch 
back to "intercom" to talk to his crew, 
in order to keep them alert under their 
locked hatches. They traveled "button- 
ed up," wjth only the tank commanders 
peering cautiously from their open 
hatches. 

■ LATE IN THE MORNING, as they near- 

ed an intersection with another road, 
the tanks slowed to a crawl. Far off to 
the right, a hum of engines warned that 
some vehicles were approaching the 
crossroad. Quietly, Dawson had passed 
the word to his crews, to prepare for 
possible action. 

Gunners swung forward into posi- 
tion, their foreheads pressed against 
the telescope sights, and their hands 

?>un elevation and traverse wheels, 
urrets turned, and the big guns level- 
ed on the crossroad. Loaders pushed 
ready racks of shells closer. Bow gun- 
ners worked the bolts of their machine 
guns, to see that they moved freely. 
Then the approaching sounds grew 
to the dull roar of a truck engine, ac- 
companied by the sharper noise of two 
motorcycles. A big German army truck 
came laboring up a grade, towards the 
intersection. Ahead of it came two 
motorcycle outriders, coal scuttle hel- 
mets strapped down and Mauser rifles 
swung across their backs. 

Dawson thought fast, and decided 
to stop them. The truck's contents 
would tell much about what German 
units were nearby. He spoke into his 
intercom. "Gunner. Stop the truck with 
co-axial machine gun ore, at the road 
junction. Bow Gunner. You get the two 
Krauts on the motor bikes. Fire when 
ready." 

As the little enemy caravan entered 
the crossroad, the tank's machine guns 
cracked out in long, tearing bursts. 
First one motorcycle man, then the 
next, careened off to one side in crazy, 
skidding slides. Then they pitched 
over and lay still, their motors racing 



and wheels still spinning. 

The truck lurched erratically and 
ground heavily to a halt, half tipped 
over in a shallow ditch. Its smashed 
windshield was mute evidence of the 
fate of the driver and his mate, 
slumped motionless behind it. Prob- 
ably, they never knew what hit them. 
As the echoes of gunfire died away 
the tanks -waited expectantly. All was 
still again. There was nothing to be 
seen. The little convoy had been all 
alone. 

Cautiously, the first tank moved up 
close to the smashed truck. Pistol in 
hand, Dawson climbed down and ap- 
proached the truck. With him had 
gone his loader, carrying a Tommy 
Gun at the ready. 

A quick glance at the motorcycle 
men and into the truck's cab was 
enough. The Germans were all dead. 
The black uniforms of the two motor- 
cyclists told that they were S.S. men. 
Otherwise no division insignia were 
visible to identify the dead men. 

Dawson walked quickly to the back 
of the truck. It was locked, and a heavy 
combination lock sealed the tailboard 
catch. 

Without hesitation, he raised his .45 
and fired one shot into the lock. 
Smashed, it hung limply from the 
hasp. He pulled it off, and threw open 
the tail Board end and the double 
doors above it 

Inside, the floor of the truck was 
stacked with many small cloth sacks, 
each carefully tied and tagged. He 
reached in and drew out one sack. The 
tag read "1703 Panzergrenadier Ar- 
tilTerie." He took another. Its tag read 
"77 Oberkommando." Hastily he 
ripped the twine off one bag, and up- 
ended it on the tailboard. As he did 
so, he gasped. 

■ money poured OUT— neat stacks of 
paper money, each stack bound with 
a paper strip, like packages of money 
in a bank. 

As he stared at the little heap of pa- 
per, Dawson's mind raced dizzily. It 
was a payroll, all right. This was a 
German army payroll truck. Each bag 
in it contained the pay for a unit. That 
explained the identification tags. May- 
be the pay for a whole corps or army 
was in this truck. There was a fortune 
lying right in front of him. 

The finance officer only the day be- 
fore had said that German money 
would be used by the occupation 
forces, as well as G.I. scrip. This was 
real money. He was rich! His men 
were rich. Excitement welled up in 
him. 

Thompson, Porter!" he shouted. 
"Come here, on the double. Get over 
here. Take a look at this." 

The men crowded around the truck, 
and stared in amazement. Faces 
flushed as they pawed through the 
sacks, and tore open one after an- 
other. 

"Some loot, eh Lieutenant!" chortled 
one of the excited soldiers. "Legitimate, 
too. It's enemy army stuff, like a Luger 

43 



or a Kraut helmet." 

Despite his own excitement, Dawson 
had not forgotten his Job. He turned 
4o one of his men. "Porter," he said, 
"tear the identification tags off all the 
sacks, and take the tags with us. 
They'll give G-2 practically a blueprint 
of the Kraut units in this area." 

Without watting for his approval, 
the men were rushing back and forth: 
between his tank ana the truck, load- 
ing sacks of money into the tank. Cau- 
tion and discipline were momentarily 
gone, and the men did not even look 
around as they ran to and from the bo- 
nanza in the truck. 

Back up the road the second tank 
watted, its guns trained over their 
heads. Crosby, its commander, squinted 
towards the crossroad, uncertain and 
worried, wondering what they were 
doing, and why they seemed so ev- 
erted 

His mind almost dizzy, Dawson 
stood still and watched his crewmen 
absently. He said nothing for a few 
minutes. 

Back home he had been an account- 
ant, not poor, but certainly not rich. 
Now, he would be able to open his 
own office, get married, buy a house, 
maybe a foreign-make sports car— all 
the things everyone wanted. There 
would be money to burn. The thought 
kept" pounding at him, unreal as it 
seemed. He had a fortune in his hands. 

Surely, they were entitled to keep 
some of it— a good big piece, he rea- 
soned. But that could be argued out 
when they got back. 

■ suddenly, hz SNAPPED himself back 
to reality. Thompson was up in the 
turret, throwing a 75 mm. shell out of 
the tank. 

Thompson!" he bellowed, "what in 
thunder are you doing there?" 

"Making room for the dough, Lieu- 
tenant," the soldier answered happily. 
"We've got plenty of ammo, and we 
need more room for the sacks." 

"Well, you cut that out right now," 
Dawson commanded. "Are you men 
crazy!" Anger, and a sudden sharp 
pang of worry shot through him. 

"All right, now. Break it up! Mount 
up, and get ready to roll. Where in 
hell do you men think you are— on a 
picnic?" He had to get the men back 
to reality. The whole thing was crazy 
dangerous, right out in the middle of 
enemy territory. 

Slowly, the men turned back and 
climbed reluctantly into the tank. Daw- 
son heard one of them muttering re- 
belliously under his breath: "All that 
dough, and just letting it sit there." 

The whole affair had taken about 
ten minutes, Dawson thought, as be 
slid down into the commander's hatch. 
Not too bad. Better call in to division 
now. He plugged in his earphones and 
spoke the call words. 

Division had noticed nothing. He 
made a routine report. "Enemy truck 
and two motorcycle riders destroyed 
at road junction, map coordinates Crid 
115-72. Also picked up identification 



tags which may be of interest to G-2. 
We now are turning for the south-to- 
north leg of the patrol, before return- 
ing." Routine acknowledgements fol- 
lowed, and then "Over, and out." 

Quickly then, he told the two other 
tank commanders what had happened, 
as his tank swung around the curve 
and started down the new road. Their 
eager curiosity had to be cut short. It 
was well past noon, and there was a 
long way to go before they'd be back 
in the safety of their own lines. The 
leapfrog reconnaissance of stop and 
go resumed. 

He had said nothing to Headquar- 
ters about the money. He had to think 
it out first. There would be plenty of 
time to tell tbem about it when they 
got back. 

He halted just below a rise, and 
searched the landscape ahead. There 
was a clump of farm buildings there, 
not far off the road, with a brick- 
walled enclosure. That might be a good 
spot for an ambush on this road. He 
called to Crosby to come up and cover 
them. 

Normally, Crosby's tank would come 
up, and pass on to the next ridge, 
while "Aimee" covered the advance. 
But this time Dawson had decided to 
cross this little valley himself. "You 
don't ask your men to do what you 
don't like to do yourself," he said. 

When "Arthritis" had taken posi- 
tion, and Crosby had waved him on, 
Dawson spoke to his driver. "Move 
fast to the next rise, past that farm 
yard. I don't like the looks of it." The 
tank bucked as the driver gunned it. 

■ "bum!" the back of the tank 
seemed to explode. Inside, the crew 
were smacked violently to one side, as 
the great steel vehicle rocked sicken- 
ingly. Suddenly, the bellowing engine 
was silent. Only the grinding of the 
tracks continued for a few seconds, as 
sheer momentum carried the heavy 
machine a little way farther. 

Desperately, Dawson twisted around 
to look back. There it was, behind the 
farmhouse— a Tiger tank. Its enormous 
gun, big as a telegraph pole, was turn- 
ing steadily towards them, feeling, like 
a huge insect, for its prey. In moments 
it would fire again. It was hardly 400 
yards away— point-blank range. 

He screamed into his intercom: 
"Gunner, traverse right! Tiger tank, 
right rear, 400 yards! 

Nothing happened. He kicked out 

savagely at Jim, the gunner. "Jim, 
traverse right. We're being hit. What 
the hell is the matter?" The whine of 
the traversing power motor rose to a 
scream— but nothing happened. 

"It won't go, Lieutenant!" Jim's 
voice sounded agonized. "It won't go. 
I think the turret basket is jammed 
with the sacks. The damned sacks of 
money are all wedged in and jammed:" 

"Spang— wheel" They had been hit 
again. The tank shook slightly. A rico- 
chet hit, glancing off the side armor. 
Even in his startled horror, Dawson 
thought dimly, "The Kraut gunner is 



too anxious. He's shooting too fast." 

A wisp of smoke slid past his face as 
he peered down inside the turret. Firel 
That first hit in the engine had started 
a fire. 

Cold terror ran through his veins. 
Too often he had seen what fire meant 
in a tank. To bum helplessly in a flam- 
ing iron coffin— that was the nightmare 
of every tanker. He had heard the hor- 
rible screaming of men in such fires. 
He had seen them crawl, all aflame, 
out of stricken machines, to run like 
living torches for a few seconds before 
falling to writhe in agony and death. 

"Bail out!" he screamed. "Fire in 
the hold! Bail out!" 

"Smash!" The side of the tank burst 
in near his feet and a horrible fiery 
thing roared in a fantastic circle around 
the hull. An armor-piercing shell, spin- 
ning and ricochetting like a top inside 
the tank. A gout of flame leaped up 
through his hatch, singeing his face 
And eyebrows, filling his mouth and 
throat, and turning his vision into a 
gray haze. Clawing and kicking like 
an animal in deathly fear, he pushed 
himself up through his hatch, and out. 

He hardly felt the shock as he 
tumbled over the side, and down to 
the ground. A white-hot pain in his 
arm told of a broken bone, as he 
crawled, panting, away from "Aimee." 
But he was out. He could breathe 
again. He sucked air into his singed 
lungs and turned painfully, as his 
mind leaped to Jim and the others in 
the tank. And suddenly, too, he re- 
membered the sacks of money. 

From "Aimee's" turret a column of 
flame and smoke boiled upward. She 
was burning like a torch. Jim was in 
there, and the others— and the damned, 
cursed sacks of money. And there was 
nothing he could do. He lay in a little 
hollow on the icy earth, and he retched 
and shook with shock and horror. 

■ far back, up the hill, there was the 
crack of a 75. That was Crosby. He 
was firing at the farmhouse. From 
where he was he couldn't possibly see 
the Tiger. But he had seen what had 
happened. 

As in a dream, Dawson saw the 
enormous German tank move out from 
■the barnyard. Behind it, like moving 
fortresses, came two more giant ma- 
chines. One of them fired once; almost 
disdainfully, at the gadfly up on the 
hilltop. The concussion of its big 88 
gun shook the ground under Dawson. 
Then, grim and forbidding, the 
three monsters wheeled around and 
ground clanking away to the east. As 
they disappeared, waves of nausea and 
dizziness washed over Dawson. 

After that, he remembered only 
vague, dim tilings. How cold it was, 
the tearing hot pain in his arm, and 
how warm his face felt. Light and 
darkness washing Up and down, like 
waves. Then Crosby's face, dim and 
cloudy. 

"We couldn't come back for you 
any sooner, sir," the face had said. 
"Well get you home. Don't worry." 



There was another vague voice. Then 
the sting of a needle. That must have 
been first-aid morphine. Then the long, 
rocking ride, half sickness and half 
dream, far into the night. 

They had got home, all right— no 
thanks to him. He who should have 

guided and led them was brought in 
y them, helpless, and a hindrance. 

He was better now. But he could 
not get it out of his mind. 

Hfs men were gone. His tank was 
gone. The money was gone. Every- 
thing was gone. It was a week before 
he was well again, and able to think 
straight— a week on a field hospital 
bed, filled with nightmares of flames, 
sacks of money, and burning men. 

"As Cod is my judge," Dawson said, 
trying to prop himself up, his eyes 
pleading, I don't think what I did 
was wrong. It could have happened to 
anyone. We 'were entitled to oring in 
that money. It was my duty to bring 
it in. I know of no Army regulation 
that could tell me what to do. Whether 
or not we should or could have kept 
any of the money for ourselves doesn't 
matter now. Any line officer would 
have done the same thing." 

He fell back on his pillow. Almost 
defiantly, he finished: "Maybe our tur- 
ret jammed on the sacks, and maybe 
not. We were done for anyhow. What 
difference does it make now? I don't 
think that I did anything wrong." 

I never reported it. What difference 
could it make? The story was filed 
away in my mind. 

Now, years later, it certainly cannot 
do any harm to tell it. What happened 
to Lieutenant Dawson, I never heard. 
Anyhow, his name wasn't Dawson. • 



SEXUAL RESEARCH 

(Continued from page 21) 
their work is being duplicated by a 
number of people for various reas- 
ons. 

Some of their imitators are legi- 
timate medical and scientific re- 
searchers, adapting new tools and 
methods in order to continue the 
search for answers to the age old 
problems of sex. Others are mar- 
riage counselors and lay psycholo- 
gists who use the new techniques to 
help patients regain sexual potency. 
Some of these men and women are 
legitimate, others are charlatans. 
Some institute their treatments in 
private offices, others have set up 
phony laboratories and research 
centers in order to recruit a paying 
clientel. 

Other less than reputable research 
centers have been established by un- 
scrupulous quacks in order to pro- 
vide a semi-legitimate front for sex 
clubs and wife swapping activities, 
as well as to provide a source for 
pornographic movies. There have 
also been cases in which the pro- 



FIGHT BIRTH DEFECTS 
Jm MARCH OF DIMES 




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45 



STRADELLA'S BLACK BOOK 

A world to enjoy where the only 
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46 



prietors of such centers were really 
engaged in blackmail. And in one 
case the researcher was a rich ec- 
centric who got his kicks from watch- 
ing rather than doing. When he 
wasn't actually observing couples 
as they made love, he had a filmed 
record of their activities to remind 
him. 

As shown in the studies conducted 
by Dr. Masters and Mrs. Johnson, 
there is no trouble getting volun- 
teers for sex research, even when it 
involves photography and direct 
observation. As long as people feel 
that the studies are legitimate and 
that they will be of benefit to others, 
they are eager to serve Further- 
more, they feel that they, too, may 
be able to learn something about 
sex as a result of their participation. 

Thus it is that the phonies, the 
charlatans and the quacks have 
found it comparatively easy not only 
to recruit volunteers but to have 
people pay for the privilege of par- 
ticipating in their so-called sexual 
research. 

THE ACTIVITIES of the Nation- 
al Sex Foundation, offer a case 
in point Under the direction of a 
leading doctor the N.S.F. was pur- 
portedly engaged in sex research 
that would improve the sexual re- 
lationship of married couples. Part 
of the research involved treatment 
of couples who had problems with 
potency, frigidity, sexual compati- 
bility. While the foundation was sup- 
posed to be a non profit organiza- 
tion, couples who came for treat- 
ment paid handsomely for the pri- 
vilege 

Not to be outdone by the research- 
ers at George Washington Univer- 
sity, the N.S.F. made use of direct 
observation, motion pictures and a 
number of devices which were used 
to measure the action and reaction 
of couples engaged in sexual inter- 
course The purpose of all this as 
the director of N.S.F. explained it 
was to enable him to make a com- 
plete scientific diagnosis of the pa- 
tients' sexual inadequacies. The pity 
of it was that most of the instruments 
were useless and there was no film 
in the camera most of the time. In 
light of this and the additional fact 
that the N.S.F. director and his fe- 
male assistant got their jollies out 
of watching other people, the coup- 
les who went to him were paying 
a mighty high price for what they 
were getting. 

If the truth be told, however, the 
N.S.F. director did clear up a num- 
ber of cases of frigidity among his 
women patients. If they appeared 
willing he merely invited them in for 
a private session, at an extra fee of 
course He had learned something 
about sex technique over the years 
and in most cases was able to im- 
part some of this knowledge and en- 



thusiasm to erstwhile frigid women. 
By the same token his assistant 
was able to contribute to the sexual 
recovery of some of the men patients. 
She was a lissom, shapely wench in 
her mid twenties and as often as not 
the mere sight of her was enough to 
restore potency to an old buck who 
could no longer be aroused by his 
ever loving wife. 

In another case a sexual research 
institute was formed in the Mid West 
Volunteers were sought out among 
the upper middle classes. Of course 
many of those invited to participate 
in the studies refused. By the same 
token, however, a great many said 
yes. Films were also used as part of 
the research technique. In this case, 
however, there was always film in 
the camera. After all of fee volun- 
teers had been photographed the 
institute suddenly went out of busi- 
ness. That was all any of the par- 
ticipants knew until they received a 
small strip of film in the mail, along 
with a notice that they could acquire 
the complete film for $5000. Other- 
wise it would be sent to friends and 
relatives. One or two couples did 
make payment but fortunately the 
blackmailers were apprehended be- 
fore they could distribute any of 
the film. Although no real harm 
came of it this should serve as a 
warning to others who are ap- 
proached to engage in sex research 
studies to make sure that the or- 
ganization is legitimate. 

In another instance the phony re- 
searchers weren't caught and most 
of the volunteers never did discover 
that they had been taken. This time 
the psychiatrist and his assistant 
operated a sexual recovery institute 
in the southeastern part of fee United 
States. Patients stayed at the institute 
for periods ranging from two weeks 
to three months in hopes of regain- 
ing lost virility, or merely to im- 
prove sexual technique and gain new 
enjoyment from what had become 
an old kick. 

The doctor who ran the institute 
passed himself off as a psychiatrist, 
but the closest he had ever come to 
the medical profession was in spend- 
ing a month in veterinarian school. 
He was another handy man with a 
camera. What he evolved as treat- 
ment was a combination of method 
acting and psychodrama, in which 
patients were asked to act out their 
sexual desires and frustrations not 
only with their wives but with other 
patients and staff members at the 
institute. It was all great fun and very 
realistic with the doctor and his pa- 
tients devising elaborate little scen- 
arios and acting them out to the 
smallest detail. 

THERE WERE WOMEN, for in- 
stance, who fancied themselves 
at the center of a male harem. The 
good doctor provided the men and 
saw to it that they performed to the 



lady's satisfaction. In other cases it 
was men who wanted to play with a 
number of girls. So the willing young 
ladies were supplied. These were 
more or less normal desires. In other 
instances women wanted what they 
referred to as "violent sex." This 
might involve the use of whips, 
chains, torture and degradation at 
the hands of other patients, staff 
members or others recruited for this 
purpose. 

For the most part, however, pa- 
tients were fairly unimaginative at 
first They merely thought up run- 
of-the-mill sexual episodes. It was 
the institute who gave them ideas 
about new thrills and techniques. In 
a typical production, for instance, 
several couples were induced to pre- 
tend they were having a party and 
play out a scene where they all got 
drunk and then got involved in a 
wife swapping affair. 

After giving the so called patients a 
few real drinks and some mood 
changing drugs, this was easy 
enough to do. And in most cases the 
men went after the other men's wives 
with an enthusiasm they hadn't been 
able to muster up for their own wives 
in years. So in this way at least, 
the therapy proved beneficial. 

What none of the patients realized, 
however, was that the cameras grind- 
ing away through it all were record- 
ing the action for quite a large au- 
dience. Of course the participants ex- 
pected to get a chance to view the 
film in order that they could explore 
their own sexual techniques and see 
how they might improve. That was 
supposed to be part of the treatment 
However, the head of the institute 
had contacts with a distributor of 
pornographic movies. He sold some 
of his best films to this gentleman 
who in turn passed them on to deal- 
ers in South America and Europe. 
However, some were dlstrubuted by 
mistake in the United States, with the 
result that several prominent patients 
of the institute were more than some- 
what embarrassed. 

Other phony sexologists have 
formed institutes In order to gather 
together groups of persons like them- 
selves, who are interested in offbeat 
sex of one kind or another. Like the 
legitimate institutes theysubjectpros- 
pective volunteers to a long inter- 
view and have them fill out exten- 
sive questionnaires. In these cases, 
however, the object is not to weed 
out those who are regarded as un- 
natural curiousity seekers or who 
have an unhealthy attitude toward 
sex. It Is rather to get rid of those 
who have a normal attitude toward 
sex. 

Once a nucleus of like-minded souls 
has been gathered, the so-called sex- 
ologist forms his own brand of sex 
cult or wife swapping club. In most 
cases no one is hurt, since those in- 
volved are of legal age and quite 



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47 



able to make their own decisions re- 
garding the state of their sex life. 

There have been instances, how- 
ever, in which unscrupulous men 
and women gathered a group of teen- 
agers together not only to satisfy 
their own warped desires but to pro- 
duce pornographic movies. In one 
case a young girl was so ashamed 
by her experience that she committed 
suicide, leaving a note incriminating 
the man who had defiled her and 
several of her friends. He was sen- 
tenced to a long term in jail. 

There are many other cases in 
which the charlatans and quacks 
have adapted the latest advances in 
sex research to their own advantage. 
Sometimes the results are costly to 
participants, but otherwise harmless. 



There are other cases as we have 
seen, however, in which the result 
is degradation and even death for 
those who have been victimized. 

A word of warning then to those 
who might be asked to volunteer in 
what they might think to be a good 
cause of furthering the sexual knowl- 
edge of mankind. Make absolutely 
sure that the institute is legitimate, 
recongized by the medical and/ or 
psychiatric professions. At the same 
time check up on the credentials of 
the researchers involved. It may well 
be that they are legitimate. At the 
same time it is just as possible that 
they are phonies out to make a dis- 
honest buck or to get a cheap thrill 
out of your desire to help your fel- 
low man. • 



EARTHQUAKE 

(Continued from poqe 23) 



hand thirty minutes earlier. "Amigo, 
you are most welcome in my modest 
abode. Have a snort I fix you a 
steak?" 

"Why not?" 

"Si, como no!" he chuckled as he 
swung around a bottle and I swung 
onto the stool. He poured out two 
drinking glasses full. "I believe in 
muchissimo friendship with oilmen 
and I believe in starting early." 

"You can say that again. It's only 
eleven." 

"By the way, amigo, someone was 
asking for you last night I told her 
you'd probably be around to- 
night—" 

"Her! Who the devil was it?" 

"Elena!" He said it softly, not look- 
ing at me. 

The same old knife turned in the 
same old wound in spite of myself. 
It had been eighteen months since 
Elena and I had decided to call it 
quits. The divorce was short, quick 
and friendly. The gap following it 
was deep, long and surprisingly 
painful, even after eighteen months. 

I ordered more tequila. Vara 
brought it over. 

" If she comes again say I've gone, 
amigo." 

"It's too late for that," Vara in- 
clined his head toward the door. 

My ex-wife stood in the doorway, 
gold hair piled in braids above her 
head. She came toward my table with 
the wistful smile I'd never been able 
to forget Eighteen months fell away 
as if they'd never happened. In one 
split-second I knew that I wanted 
Elena, even more than the first time 
we'd met. Not admitting it would 
have been kidding myself. 

WE TALKED AS if we'd never 
been apart Elena told me 
about a jobthatdidn'tpanout, about 
a new apartment overlooking a gar- 
48 



den full of tropical birds. Her eyes 
told me a different story. They said 
she still ached for me. Impulsively I 
reached across the table and took 
her hand. 

"Elena. It was a mistake, the di- 
vorce, I mean." 

Her gray eyes brimmed with tears 
as she nodded at me, too moved to 
speak. For the next hour and a 
half we laid the base for a new life 
together. More immediately we 
we agreed to dinner, one of Amos 
Vara's steaks. Elena went across 
town to her apartment to wind up 
her affairs preparatory to moving 
in with me. After that she was to re- 
turn to my hotel for dinner. I went 
upstairs to shave and wash. 

After the shower, I flopped back on 
the big brass bed and closed my 
eyes awaiting Amos Vara's call to 
chow. It never came— never. The 
only sound I heard out of Vara's 
mouth was one terrified shriek em- 
anating from his kitchen as the earth- 
quake detonated the peaceful silence 
of the Peruvian morning. 

The next thing I knew was that 
the world was suddenly coming to 
a hideous end. All I could think of 
was Elena. I knew I had to find her 
before losing her forever. Peru's sec- 
ond largest city, situated on theslopes 
of the active volcano Mis ti, began to 
die In the last few seconds before 
the wall crumbled, I watched the sun 
on the mountains and the strange 
phenomenon of a city below waking 
to the awful realization of a catas- 
trophe. The streets were filled with 
panicked men and women, all of them 
running, some already falling and 
dying as the tidal wave of bloody 
hell rolled over them. 

"Oh God!" I moaned. "Get me 
out of here!" 

My prayer was answered almost 
before the words were out of my 
mouth— the wall and the entire fourth 
floor suddenly buckled. In the street 
a great steaming fissure appeared 
and a lot of people began tumbling 
into their common coffin. 

As the earth gasped another of 



its bone-shattering jolts, my wall 
sagged. I wasn't thrown. I simply 
dropped with it— straight down— the 
rubble piling all around me, dust 
billowing up, choking me, blinding 
me, until the hard ground cracked 
against my head and I lay there 
whimpering piteously until uncon- 
sciousness took theplace of the pains. 
It was the pain that revived me some 
time later. 

Coughing up dust, I crawled out 
of the rubble. I intended to get to 
Elena's apartment if it meant going 
the whole way on my hands and 
knees. I could hardly see. I sat there 
in the debris holding my head, 
squeezing it to keep my scalp to- 
gether. When I removed my hands 
I saw blood and dirt, but I was too 
dazed to be frightened any longer. 
I recognized the mutilated torso of 
the maestro a few yards away. The 
chubby brown right hand still 
clutched at my raw steak. On my 
hands and knees, I crawled from 
the mound toward the earth. 

The sensation of being lifted bodily 
again and then slammed down hard 
became a stunning reality. I felt 
myself rolling awkwardly, then drop- 
ping into darkness. I clutched at a 
door, but the tremendous force of 
the downward motion tore my hand 
away. I landed in a crevasse, per- 
haps five feet deep, my head al- 
most bursting from pressure and 
noise. 

If the crevasse closed again, I 
would be squeezed to death. The 
terrible fear galvanized me into ac- 
tion. Torn as my body was, I reached 
up to the lip of the earth and raised 
myself onto it The tremendous vi- 
brations bounced my limp, bleed- 
ing body and I gravitated toward the 
wrecked hote. 

Other than the dead maestro, I 
saw none of Arequipa's 200,000 
residents in the early stages of the 
quake. The smudge of choking death 
obliterated everything and I was 
almost blind. My head throbbed and 
no amount of squeezing could stop 
the agitation. I was so weak I could 
only pray for death. I lay there stupe- 
fied, the picture of utter helplessness, 
until I began to cough so violently 
I had to sit up. When I did, I lost 
consciousness again. 

SOMETHING BOUNC ED against 
the back of my neck, stinging me 
awake. I sagged forward on my 
face. As I opened my eyes, pieces 
of wood and plaster smacked my 
body and I clawed into it, trying 
to lift it piece meal. I could smell 
fire above the chalk smell of adobe 
plaster. Vaguely, I could hear the 
squeak of human terror all about 
me, above the heavy detonations of 
the splitting earth. 

I was covered with blood, the skin 
torn from both hands, my right 
shoulder dislocated and every rib 
aching like hell! Hundreds of peo- 



pie crawled around deep fissures 
carved in the smoking earth. A wall 
of fire blazed on either side of the 
long street Suddenly, I beganbounc- 
ing so hard my jaw clattered, my 
body rose and crashed to the ground 
like a rat being shaken by a terrier. 
Deep, welling knifing pains surged 
through my dust covered carcass. 

"Elena," I screamed, "I'm com- 
ing for you! Wait for me, Elena!" 

I couldn't move. By some mira- 
cle I'd crawled through the mound 
of housing. Now I lay atop the 
mound, staring through a veil of 
tears and blood, watching fire rage 
in the street I saw a man running 
toward me carrying the limp, nude 
body of his wife; a young girl sat 
in the street beside a fissure, peering 
into the hole and waving her arms. 
I saw the town's department store 
become a glut of yellow fire and 
black, evil smoke rising dismally 
above the city. I wanted to die. 

It wasn't possible to scream above 
the booming of the earthquake. No 
thunder I had ever heard equaled 
that thunder, that spoken misery 
from the bowels of the earth. 

What happens? How do I get out 
of here— when do I get out of here, 
dear God! Help me! 

I had no thoughts of anything 
but Elena. But like everything else in 
that desolation, they seemed like 
hopeless dreams fading in the stink- 
ing, consummate rubble. Thepalling 
black smoke rose high and blotted 



out the sunlight and covered the un- 
dulating mountain from where Hay. 
It was over for me and I began 
quietly to make my peace. 

All around me lay stark death, 
instant death. It came from beneath 
the quaking earth, and rained down 
in sheets of fire and huge chunks 
of rock and debris. Nobody could 
escape it— not even the luckier ones 
who tried to run up the hills. The 
ground kept opening and closing, 
and in many tragic instances, 
squeezed unto death hundreds of 
persons. 

I myself lay in the debris unable 
to move. I lay there even as the 
wood burned around me, until in 
a move of desperation, I gripped 
a piece of planking and hit myself 
over the head to lose consciousness. 
It didn't work. Somewhere beneath 
the bloody pulp that was my head, 
a spark of sanity prevailed finally, 
and I inched down the rubble until 
I collapsed again. 

In the agonized black void, peo- 
ple were still screaming and now, 
abruptly, there were sirens. Fanned 
by a westerly wind, the flames on the 
prado roared out of control. 

I TRIED TO call to a survivor— 
but couldn't open my mouth. I 
leaned up on my elbows, clutching 
the leg of a man. Blood caked his 
eyes and dripped from his limp arm. 
But he moved me. He draped his 
good arm around my chest and drag- 



ged me across the road. Then I saw 
him tearing at rubble that had been 
the facade of his house. Since I no 
longer had a voice in my body, I 
was as helpless as any one human 
could possibly be. 

The earthquake was oh again, and 
again I was being dragged. I felt 
myself being lifted by the earth and 
bouncing again, then dropping into 
an abyss. I wondered if there was 
anyone— anywhere— some vestige of 
life that had the strength and courage 
to help me. Then I stopped thinking; 
I stopped for a long time. 

For seven days I lay in a coma, 
one of the hundreds of casual ties that 
President Manuel Prado saw during 
his visit to the stricken city. Sixty-one 
persons died in the earthquake; hun- 
dreds were permanently injured. The 
American Hotel ceased to exist So 
did Amos Vara and his family. Mi- 
raculously, my Elena was saved. It 
took her two weeks of combing mor- 
gues and hospitals, of examining 
countless corpses, to find me. When 
I saw my almost twice lost wife I 
forgot my shoulder and cracked ribs; 
forgot everything but the present 
unbelievable radiance ofherpresence 
before me. 

By the grace of God we got our 
second chance at a new life together, 
but the memory of that infernal night 
will never diminsh. Ican'teverforget 
the tragedy that almost took my life 
and nearly destroyed my chance to 
marry my wife again. • 




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Colif. retidBntr odd a% Sole, To» 

49 



SWAMP OF DEATH 

(Continued from pog© 29) 



tory because legendary General Ig- 
nancio Marco Delgado who had sub- 
dued the Indians of the Spanish 
Main, had been the progenitor of 
Mel's branch of the Delgado family. 

I couldn't have cared less until 
after we sold the business and 
started to look around for some- 
thing else. Then Mel said, "The hell 
with making it the hard way . . . 
let's take a crack at some real mo- 
ney for a change. " 

He said he was sure that his stu- 
dies of the Spanish Main's activities 
had revealed the location of forgotten 
gold. "Three hundredyearsago,"he 
said, "hostile natives rolled a Span- 
ish Army wagon train loaded with 
gold off a mountain into a lagoon 
which extended from Golfo Triste 
(Gulf of Triste). This part of the 
lagoon is now Lake Guacuni Now 
if we drain this little lake . . ." 

I was suddenly all ears. Mel isn't 
the kind of guy who goes off the 
deep end. 

Surprisingly, my wife Estelle went 
for the idea but Mel's Mrs. kicked 
up a rumpus. Estelle, who works 
with Sally Delgado at the Western 
& Southern Insurance Company, 
convinced her, though, that a man 
who never takes a chance never hits 
the jackpot. 

Fifteen days later— the date was 
Tuesday, July 7, 1964— Mel and 
I got off a plane at the International 
Airport in Caracas, Venezuela. 

The next morning we hired jungle 
pilot Tomas Rodriquez, a former 
wing commander in the Venezuelan 
Air Force, to fly us to Tocuyo de 
la Costa, a town of about 2500 
people on the mouth of the To- 
cuyo river. 

We began immediately to stock up 
on the supplies we'd need. Then we 
purchased two pack burros, loaded 
our gear onto them and plodded 
into the jungle. 

Three days later we were standing 
on the south shore of Lake Guacuni. 
You could see the slope down which 
the Spanish gold train could have 
rolled. You could also see that this 
little lake had once been an arm of 
the lagoon. 

"Let's set up camp," I said, sud- 
denly terribly eager to learn if there 
really was gold in this little lake. 

We were still putting up our tents 
when Chief Quicaca came out of 
the jungle with two spear-armed Cus- 
quipas. 

This little Indian, who was about 
35, spoke Spanish easily— he had 
been educated at the Santa Maria 
School in San Felipe. He was af- 
fable and friendly and after he 
learned that wewouldbecamped here 
50 



for an indefinite time he went into 
the jungle and returned a hour later 
with Chota and Huanca. "They will 
prepare your meals and make your 
nights interesting," he said. 

When I could take my eyes from 
these exotic little women— their only 
garments were skirts that extended 
less than half way to their knees — 
I turned to Quicaca. "Gracias ..." 
I said in the Spanish I'd learned as 
a kid in Colorado's Animas River 
Valley. 

MY FIRST NIGHT with Chota 
is unforgettable. She was eager 
and vibrant and inexhaustible. Fin- 
ally I pushed her away. "I've got- 
ta get some sleep," I gasped. 

She let me sleep for an hour. Then 
she woke me up. "I want to love 
again," she whispered, nibbling at 
my ear. 

I drew the line at loving her again 
at dawn, though. I'm no weakling 
but I'm not a stud horse either. 

Mel and I and Quicaca and three 
of his men spent the next two days 
machete-cutting foliage off the slope 
down which we entended to run the 
lake's water. Then we dug a channel 
in the cleared area. 

The following morning we shoved 
sticks of dynamite into the lateral 
loam ridge which formed the lake's 
eastern bank. 

We blew it at 3 p.m. 

An hour later the last of the water 
drained off the little lake. 
"Damn ..." I mumbled, looking 
at the lake's blue-mud floor. There 
wasn't the slightest sign of the re- 
mains of a wagon train. Justsmooth 
blue mud. 

"The day this arm of the lagoon 
became a lake it started to fill with 
mud," Mel said. "So what we're 
looking for is buried out there some- 
place." 

Naturally we couldn't do shovel 
exploring until the mud dried. I 
threw a rock into it to get an idea 
of its depth. The rock made a crater 
at least five feet deep. "That means we 
won't be doing any digging for a 
good long wile," Mel said deject- 
edly. 

We waited two damn weeks for 
that mud to dry. But those fourteen 
days were a Texas mile from being 
a drag. We spent our time swimming 
with our Cusquipa dolls in the cool 
clear waters of spring-fed pools and 
making love in orchid-carpeted jun- 
gle glades. 

The morning of the 15th day we 
climbed onto the slope above the 
dried-out lake and cut down a big 
mahogany tree on the site which we 
calculated to be the most logical 
place for the Indians' ambush of the 
old Spanish mule train. 

We stripped the branches from the 
log and rolled it off the slope It 
landed twenty-two feet further out on 
the lake's bed than the place we had 



planned to dig. "It's a good thing we 
took the time to determine the tra- 
jectory of the train's fall," Mel said, 
"or we'd have worn ourselves out 
digging in the wrong places." 

We rolled the log away and began 
to dig. Five back breaking hours 
later my spade struck something be- 
sides blue dirt I dropped to my 
knees and quickly clawed the dirt 
away. Then I picked up a gold in- 
got five inches long and two inches 
wide and an inch and a quarter 
thick. 

"I'll be a monkey's uncle," I said. 
That's all I could think of to say. 
I guess I'd never though we'd ac- 
tually find that gold ... I'd spent 
so much of my life on he short 
end of the stick that I'd got to think- 
ing it would always be that way. 

Two days and seventeen ingots 
later, Quicaca tried to double-cross 
us. 

Now, looking at the tricky little 
devil plodding through the Muerto 
swamp, I called him every name in 
the book. If it hadn't been for his per- 
fidy we'd have come out of this ad- 
venture millionaires. As it was, the 
moment we released him he'd head 
back and dig up the rest of the gold. 

I thought about shooting the litte 
rat after we no longer needed him as 
a hostage through that dank, dark 
swamp. But I discarded the idea— 
I'm not a money murderer. Besides, 
if we killed the Cusquipas' chief we'd 
have as much chance of surviving 
another trip to Lake Guacuni as a 
snowball in hades. 

IN THE FIRST light of dusk we 
made camp on a grassy knoll 
which was elevated about three feet 
above the swamp's muck. "Don't 
try anything stupid," I said to Qui- 
caca. "Either me or Mel is going to 
have a Webley looking your way 
every minute of the night" 

To reduce that squeaky little In- 
dian's chances of devilment during 
the black tropical night, Mel and I 
made him sit on the ground with his 
back against a eucalpytus tree. Then 
we lashed his hands behind the tree. 

"Match you to see who beds down 
first" Mel said pulling a half dollar 
from his pocket He flipped it into 
the air. 

I called it so I spent the first two 
hours making love to Chota. Then 
I stood a two hour watch while 
Mel had his chance with Huanca. 

Quicaca didn't try anything that 
night But the next night while Mel 
was romancing Huanca and I was 
standing watch, he enticed Chota 
into crawling on her belly behind 
the eucalyptus tree and slashing the 
thongs which bound his hands. 

Suddenly he leaped up and dived 
toward me. I saw the moon's re- 
flection on Chota's knife, which he 
gripped in his right hand, an in- 
stant before he could slash it across 



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my throat. 

I rolled out of the way and fired 
twice before I was able to get off 
the ground. 

Quicaca collapsed without a whim- 
per— I'd scored both times with slugs 
in his guts that coursed upward 
through his heard and lungs. 

Then I zeroed in on Chota, who 
was sprinting down the knoll as 
fast as she could go. 

But I didn't pull the trigger. Even 
though her duplicity had damn near 
cost me my life I couldn't kill that 
little doll. 

We trudged into Tocuyo de la 
Costa at dusk the next day. 

Four days later we were back in 
Cincinnati. 

"Maybe if we could find some guy 
with a helicopter we could get in, 
dig up a few ingots and get out 
before the Cusquipas knew we were 
there," Mel said over a beer on my 
patio last week. 

I said a healthier idea would be to 
find a couple of guys we could trust — 
whom the Cusquipas would not as- 
sociate with the annihilation of their 
chief — and make a deal with them to 
go in like we did and get the rest of 
the gold. 

"Who can you trust for that kind 
of loot?" Mel said. "Maybe a bet- 
ter idea would be to pretend that 
we got all the gold there was and 
forget the rest of it " 

I said I'd already tried thatscheme. 

I also said it didn't work. You can't 
forget about a million bucks worth of 
gold when you know exactly where it 
is and how to get it • 



KILLERS OF LUZON 

(Continued from page 33) 



"None!" Kennedy growled. "It 
was a Jap straggler. I got him- 
but I had to fire three times to do 
it. I wasted the ammo. He wasn't 
carrying a thing— not even a knife!" 

The girl's face mirrored his own 
disappointment. He walked over to 
a nearby stump and sat down on 
it wearily. He glowed at the bat- 
tered lever-action rifle he was car- 
rying. He had salvaged it from a 
burning farmhouse outside Linga- 
yen, along with a dozen rounds of 
ammunition. Now, there were only 
four rounds remaining— and when 
those were gone, the weapon would 
be useless, and he and the girl 
would have only their bare hands 
with which to defend themselves. 

"You know, it might be a smart 
idea for us to turn ourselves in," 
he said quietly to the girl. "If we 
surrender, we might have some 
kind of chance. If we don't, we're 
bound to die of starvation— or from 
lead poisoning. The Japs can't help 
but catch up with us sooner or 
later . . ." 



52 



Profits That Lie Hidden J 
in America's Mountain of ^ 
Broken Electrical Appliances 





By J. M. Sm'tfh, PWtdtnt, National Radio tnititutt 



And I mean profits for you no maltmr who 
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doing now. Do you realize that there or* 

OV*r 700 million electrical appliances in tho 
homos of America today? So it't no wonder 

that men who know how fo service thorn 
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The coming of the auto created 
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A row Examples of What I Moan 
Now here's a report from Earl Reid of 
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The girl glared at Jim Kennedy, 
her pretty face creasing into an 
angry mask. 

"You've got a touch of the sun!" 
she sneered. 

"Nope. I'm just using my head. 
This whole area is swarming with 
Nips-and they'll be beating the 
weeds from here on in. Eventually, 
they'll find us, and when they do, 
they'll finish us off." 

He said nothing to the girl about 
what the Japs would probably do 
to her. If she was captured by a 
Japanese patrol, she would be beat- 
en, raped and tortured— just like so 
many other American women who 
had fallen into the hands of the 
enemy in the Philippines. But Jim 
could see no need to bring that up, 
to mention it at all. 

"You're yellow!" the girl rasped 
suddenly. "You're afraid of the 
Japs " 

"You're damned right I'm afraid 
of 'em," Jim nodded. "So far, 
they've been running wild all over 
these islands, and nobody's been 
able to stop them. And I don't 
think I can do the job with a bust- 
ed down lever-action shooting- 
iron like this one." 

He was talking what he thought 
was sense. He wanted only to save 
the girl's life. But she wasn't hav- 
ing any of his arguments. 

"You're yellow!" she repeated 
angrily. "You're not a man— you're 
a punk, a coward! If you want to 
give up to the Jans, go ahead." 

She raised her arm and pointed 
into the jungle, in the direction 
from which Jim Kennedy had 
come. 

"Go on!" she snapped. 

Jim Kennedy's mouth dropped 
open. He raised his own hand as if 
to silence the girl, to halt her rising 
anger. 

"Okay," he said. "You win. I 
won't surrender. We'll stay here— 
and get ourselves knocked off. If 
we don't starve to death first, that 
is!" 

Sergeant Jim Kennedy had run 
into plenty of women during his 
nine years of Regular Army 
soldiering in such places as Pana- 
ma, Hawaii, China and the Philip- 
pines. But, he admitted ruefully to 
himself, he had never met a hell- 
cat to equal Bette Morse, the 23- 
year-old daughter of Lieutenant 
Colonel Theodore Morse. 

Col. Morse had been Jim Ken- 
nedy's battalion commander until 
a few days before. Then, the Jap- 
anese attack on Luzon had cut the 
battalion to pieces. Badly wound- 
ed, Col. Morse had called Kennedy 
to his side. 

"My daughter is in Lingayen," 
the officer told Jim. "Try and get 
to her— and see that she's safe." 

"Yes, sir," Kennedy murmured 
softly. It was clear that Col. Morse 
had only a few minutes to live. 
"I'll try to get her on a boat or 
sub for Australia . . ." 



A monent later, the battalion 
commander was dead. It was night, 
and Jim Kennedy was aware that 
the few men who remained of the 
battalion were scattered far and 
wide. The region swarmed with 
victorious Japanese troops. He de- 
cided to chance it, to try and slip 
past the Nips and make his way to 
the town of Lingayen. Miraculous- 
ly, he'd made it. Lingayen was be- 
ing held by a scratch force of has- 
tily-assembled GIs and a few score 
Pmlippine Scouts. 

Kennedy reported to the officer 
in charge and told his story. 

"I'd like to find Col. Morse's 
daughter and see what I can do for 
her. Then I'll report back here for 
duty, sir," he said. 

The officer, a Captain with a 
wounded arm, nodded. "Try and 
make it fast," he grunted. "The 
Japs will be attacking soon, and we 
need every man we can get." 

Kennedy saluted and set off on 
the double. An hour later, he found 
Bette Morse. He broke the news of 
her father's death as gently as pos- 
sible. 

"Your Dad asked me to take care 
of you," he said. "It was his last 
wish." 

A moment later, all hell seemed 
to break loose to the south. The 
Japanese were attacking in force- 
behind a heavy barrage of artillery 
and mortar fire. The fury of the 
barrage told Jim Kennedy that the 



defensive perimeter could not hold 
for more than a few minutes. It 
was useless for him to go back. 
The Japs would be through by the 
time he was halfway there. 

"Come on!" he yelled to Bette 
Morse. "We've got to get out of 
here!" 

He grabbed the girl by the arm 
and dragged her along with him. 
They had gone about a hundred 
yards when she tripped and fell. 
He reached down to help her up— 
and saw that she had twisted her 
ankle. She could not walk. 



"I'LL CARRY YOU!" he said. He 
' lifted her up. His rifle-an '03 
Springfield— was slung over his 
shoulder.'lt got in his way. He slid 
it off his shoulder and tossed it 
aside. 

The first Japanese shells were 
already crashing into the town itr . 
self. The streets were filled with 
milling, terrified Filipinos. Carry- 
ing the girl in his arms, Kennedy 
pushed his way through the crowds 
and made for the waterfront. He 
found a rowboat tied to a small 
wharf. Without hesitating for a mo- 
ment, he lowered the girl into it, 
climbed in after her and cast off 
the lines that held the boat to the 
wharf. He grabbed the oars and 
began rowing. 

"Where are we going?" Bette 
demanded. 



"Damned if I know," Jim grated. 
"But we're going!" 

He rowed hard, guiding the tiny 
boat north, staying close to the 
shore. 

Half an hour later, he spotted 
flights of Jap Zeros patrolling 
overhead. He turned into shore. 
Reaching the beach, he helped 
Bette from the boat and carried 
her into the jungle that came al- 
most to the water's edge. He low- 
ered her to the ground. 

"Stay here while I do some 
scouting," he growled. 

He'd seen a fire through the 
trees. He made for it and found a 
burning farmhouse. The place was 
deserted and the main part of the 
house had not yet begun to burn. 
Jim went inside. He found no one, 
but his luck was good. He did find 
an old lever-action rifle and twelve 
rounds of ammunition for it. He 
also found some canned goods. 
Then he returned to where he'd 
left Bette. 

"Well, we're not exactly help- 
less anymore," he declared. "And 
we don't have to worry about 
starving today." 

They ate some of the canned 
food, rested for about an hour, and 
resumed their flight. Once again, 
Jim had to carry the girl. They'd 
gone two or three miles inland 
when they found a hidden clearing. 

"We'd better hide here for the 
night," Jim decided. 




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56 



They stayed the night and the 
following day. Kennedy went 
scouting. He used two of his pre- 
cious cartridges to shoot a rabbit 
for their dinner. They cooked the 
rabbit. Bette's ankle was much 
better, and she could hobble along 
on her own. They moved further 
inland that night. Found another 
hidden spot and bedded down. 

The next day Jim shot two more 
rabbits— but he used three rounds 
in the process. But the rabbits kept 
them alive for another two days. 
The next day, they heard someone 
moving through the jungle. Jim 
had gone out to see what or who 
it was. He spotted the Jap straggler 
and shot him. 

Returning to where he'd left 
Bette, Sgt. Kennedy acknowledged 
that their situation was virtually 
hopeless. He suggested that they 
surrender— a suggestion that had 
brought a violent reaction from 
the girl. 

"Okay. You win!" he'd told the 
girl. "We won't surrender." 

After several minutes of silence, 
he'd risked asking her a question. 

"As long as you're calling all the 
shots— what do you propose we 
do?" 

Bette Morse looked him square- 
ly in the eye— and smiled. 

"We'll organize the Filipinos to 
fight the Japs," she replied. 

Maybe it was the way she said 
it, but Sgt. Kennedy saw it was 
useless to argue. Yes. They'd do 
what she said. They would stay on 
the island of Luzon— and organize 
Filipino resistance against the Jap- 
anese conquerors. 

How? 

Bette Morse seemed to have all 
the answers— and, as it turned out, 
they were the right ones. 

First, she said, they must ambush 
one or two armed Japanese sol- 
diers, kill them and obtain their 
weapons. To accomplish this, she 
would act as decoy. 

"Sooner or later, we'll run across 
a Japanese soldier wandering 
around alone. I'll keep his mind 
occupied— and you'll kill him." 

They had their chance the next 
day. A Jap infantryman was walk- 
ing along a trail. Bette Morse 
stepped out from among the trees. 
The Jap saw the girl— and imme- 
diately thoughts of rape sprang in- 
to his mind. He grabbed her and 
forced her down on the ground. 
Jim Kennedy leaped on the Nip's 
back, dragged him off the girl and 
choked him to death. 

"I— I'm going to be very sick," 
Bette said shakily. She retched vio- 
lently. But she soon recovered. 
She helped Jim strip the corpse 
of rifle, ammo belt, trench-knife, 
pistol, entrenching tool, canteen 
and rice-rations. 

Three days later, they had an- 
other stroke of luck-and killed 
their second armed enemy soldier. 
Now both Jim and the girl had 
weapons and ammunition. They 



headed for the hills— into the back- 
country where the Filipinos lived 
in remote and isolated villages. 

They were welcomed into the 
first village they entered. The na- 
tives had already had experience 
with the Japanese invaders. A com- 
pany of Nip infantry had swept 
through the village killing, raping 
and pillaging. The Filipinos thirst- 
ed for revenge, and they eagerly 
volunteered to fight the Japanese. 

"We'll need more guns," Bette 
told the villagers. "We must set up 
ambushes and pick off small groups 
of Japanese troops so that we can 
get their weapons." 

Bette Morse fell easily into the 
role of overall commander of the 
guerrilla operations against the 
enemy. It was she who did the 
planning, who worked out the 
strategy and the tactics of the at- 
tacks and raids against the Japs. 

For his part, Sergeant Jim Ken- 
nedy assumed direct charge of the 
native resistance fighters and led 
them against the enemy. During 
the weeks that followed, Kennedy 
and his guerrillas ranged through 
the hills, waylaying small Japa- 
nese patrols. Several Filipinos 
were killed and wounded in the 
sharp skirmishes that took place, 
but eventually the guerrillas man- 
aged to collect a sizeable store of 
arms and ammunition. 

By late July, 1942, Bette Morse 
and Jim Kennedy had succeeded 
in organizing a large number of 
Luzon villages into their resistance 
network. Their private army of 
Filipino guerrillas numbered more 
than 300 well-armed fighting men. 

The U.S. Army Sergeant and the 
Colonel's daughter established 
their headquarters in a remote 
section of the tangled, trackless 
hills. They shared a small hut. Both 
healthy, normal people with norm- 
al appetites, they had long since 
become lovers. 

Handsome Jim Kennedy found 
that Bette Morse— a girl with a 
beautiful face and a lovely, full- 
bosomed figure— was a woman, and 
a passionate one, in every sense. 
He cursed the war, for he would 
have liked to spend all his time 
in her arms. But then, he realized 
that if it wasn't for the war, he 
would never had the opportunity 
to make love to her in the first 
place. 

The Japanese made many grave 
errors in their occupation of Philip- 
pines. By no means the least of 
these was the brutality with which 
they treated the native Filipino 
population. The Japs ruled the 
islands with savage cruelty, mur- 
dering wantonly, burning entire 
towns and villages and massacring 
entire populations. 

The resistance of the Filipinos 
stiffened. More and more of them 
flocked to join the new formed 
guerrilla army. 

Bette Morse did the staff plan- 
ning and thinking for the force. 



% 



DIRECTORY OF ACTIVE CLUBS 

For your protection, to keep out undesirables these clubs have agreed to cooperate with the Post Office Department. Thejr 
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LOTS Of PICTURES, wllh NAMES! 
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Box 314 Long Beach, Calif. 90801 



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Box 1181-WW Newport Beach. Calif. 9286?, 



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58 



She studied the intelligence reports 
brought in by native informants 
and worked out the details of raids 
and operations against the Japa- 
nese on Luzon. Once the plans 
were set, Sgt. Kennedy and his 
men executed them. 

The guerrillas were fast-moving 
and hard-hitting troops. They at- 
tacked Jap supply dumps, outposts 
and headquarters. They blasted rail 
lines, bridges, tunnels, communi- 
cations and transportation facili- 
ties. And, of course, they killed 
Japanese soldiers. 

"We blew up an ammo dump, 
burned a fuel depot— and accounted 
for more than a hundred Nips . . ." 

"Scratch a Jap motor pool and a 
telephone central . . ." 

"Tojo's heroes are short three 
locomotives and a railroad bridge— 
we got them this morning . . ." 

Such were the messages that Sgt. 
Kennedy sent back to Bette Morse 
from his far-ranging rampages 
against the enemy. When he and 
his men would return to their 
hideout, Kennedy gave the girl 
more detailed reports of his ac- 
tivities—murmuring to her in the 
stillness of the night as they lay 
locked in each other's arms. 

By the middle of 1943, the United 
States and its Allies had begun to 
turn the tide of the war against the 
Axis Powers. In Australia, Gen- 
eral Douglas MacArthur's head- 
quarters was able to send arms and 
munitions to the guerrilla units in 
the Philippines. These supplies 
were air-dropped or brought in by 
submarines which landed them at 
remote points along the coasts of 
the islands. 

Soon, the Resistance Army led 
by Bette Morse and Jim Kennedy 
numbered nearly 3,000 men. The 
guerrillas were partially equipped 
with American-made automatic 
weapons and even a few light mor- 
tars which had been brought in by 
submarine. 

IN SEPTEMBER, 1943, Jim led 500 
of his best fighters on a sweeping 
operation against Japanese forces 
stationed in the northern portion of 
the island of Luzon. Kennedy and 
his guerrillas had the bad luck of 
running headon into a crack Japa- 
nese regiment near Laoag. A pitch- 
ed battle ensued. More than half 
the guerrillas were killed and Jim 
Kennedy was severely wounded by 
a burst of fire from a Japanese 
Nambu light machine gun. 

His men managed to get Ken- 
nedy out. They improvised a litter 
and carried him back to his head- 
quarters in the hills, lugging his 
lanky frame on a gruelling forced 
march that lasted nearly six days. 

Kennedy was near death, but 
Bette Morse and a native doctor 
managed to save his life. But it 
was obvious to all that it would 
be many months before Jim could 
go on campaign again. 

"Somebody will have to take 
over!" he groaned when he was 



told this. "We can't leave the men 
without a leader . . ." 

"Don't worry," Bette assured 
him. "I'll pinch-hit for you until 
you're well enough to resume com- 
mand of the troops." 

"But you can't . . . !" 

Kennedy argued, but it was use- 
less. The girl had made up her 
mind— and she was as good as her 
word. For the next five months it 
was Bette Morse who led the guer- 
rilla units on their raids against 
the Japanese. The beautiful young 
woman proved to be as tough and 
resourceful as any man. The Fili- 
pino irregulars wrought havoc, 
spreading death and destruction 
wherever they found Japanese 
troops or installations. 

The Japanese High Command 
offered a reward equivalent to 
to $50,000 for Bette Morse and Jim 
Kennedy. The Japs thought this 
would be enough to cause the na- 
tives to betray the pair, but they 
were wrong. Most of the Filipinos 
living north of Manila on Luzon 
were secretly supporting the guer- 
rillas. 

In the Spring of 1944 it was clear 
that the Rising Sun of Japan was 
setting fast. U.S. forces had invaded 
and secured the Admiralty Islands 
and had landed on New Guinea. 
The invasion of the Philippines was 
generally conceded to be imminent. 

The Japanese sensed this. They 
redoubled their security measures 
in the Philippines and launched 
new and more vicious campaigns of 
oppression and terror against the 
native population. The Nips also 
poured large numbers of men and 
equipment into the battles against 
the guerrillas. 

Kennedy's wounds had healed. 
He was able to resume active lead- 
ership of his private army. This 
had grown and, by the summer of 
1944, consisted of more than 5,500 
well-armed men sworn to fight to 
the death against the Japanese. 

The Japs sent two entire divi- 
sions into the hills to smash the 
guerrilla force once and for all. The 
operation was supported by squad- 
rons of Zero fighters and bombers. 

"We'll suck the Jap ground 
troops into the hills, cause them to 
split up— and then ambush and 
massacre them piecemeal," Bette 
Morse told Jim Kennedy, who fell 
in with the plan wholeheartedly. 

Small guerrilla units hid in the 
hills. Other units acted as decoys. 
The Japanese were forced to split 
their regiments and battalions into 
small detachments. These were 
lured into traps and decimated. 

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divisions were withdrawn from the 
hills and the guerrillas could relax 
temporarily. Their respite was 
short. On October 17 and 18, the 
6th Rangers made pre-invasion 
landings at Dinagat and the Suluan 
islands at the entrance to Leyte 
Gulf. This threw the Japanese into 
a panic-a panic that grew much 
worse three days later when U.S. 
troops made a full-scale invasion 
of Leyte. 

"Now is the time to hit the bas- 
tards and harass them in their 
rear," Jim Kennedy grinned. He 
and Bette split their force into two 
groups. Kennedy led one, the girl 
led the other. 

From then until January 9, 1945, 
when the United States Sixth Army 
stormed ashore on Luzon, they led 
their guerrillas in ceaseless attacks 
on the Japanese forces in the 
northern part of the island. Ken- 
nedy's group operated in the west, 
where the American invasion 
troops were scheduled to land. 
Bette led her force in a series of 
continuing diversionary raids on 
Jap installations on the eastern 
side of Luzon. 

When the assault units of the 
Sixth Army had secured their 
beachhead on the shores of Lin- 
gayen Gulf, Sgt. Kennedy made 
contact with the American head- 
quarters that had been established 
ashore. He received orders to re- 
port personally as soon as possible, 
and to bring Bette Morse with him. 

The girl and the non-com report- 
ed to the U.S. headquarters three 
days later, making their first direct 
contact with American forces in 
three years. To their amazement, 
they learned that they were well 
known— even famous. 

"You've done a terrific job," 
Lieutenant General Howard M. 
Blake told them. "We've been fol- 
lowing your operations for years— 
and you were worth at least a doz- 



en divisions to us. We could never 
have made our invasion landings 
as easily as we did if it hadn't been 
for your harassing attacks against 
the enemy rear." 

Jim Kennedy was commissioned 
a Major on the spot— orders for his 
promotion coming directly from 
General MacArthur. Bette Morse 
was offered a commission, too— but 
in the Women's Army Corps. She 
turned it down— flat. Army regula- 
tions prohibited female officers or 
enlisted personnel from engaging 
in active combat operations, and 
she wanted to return to her guer- 
rillas and lead them until the Japs 
were driven from the Philippines 
finally and forever. 

She and Major Kennedy did just 
that, continuing to conduct opera- 
tions against the Japanese until the 
Philippines were completely se- 
cured. Then Jim Kennedy request- 
ed 30 days' leave— so that he and 
Bette could get married. 

Bette Morse accompanied Jim 
when he went to see Brigadier 
General Frank A. Chatham to ap- 
ply for leave. Kennedy explained 
that he and Bette wanted to get 
married. 

"Why not wait until you can go 
back to the States and do the job 
right-with all the trimmings?" 
General Chatham asked. 

"When do you think we might 
be able to do that, sir?" Jim in- 
quired. 

"Oh, I suppose you'll be able to 
travel quite freely in about six 
months," the General replied. 

"I— I don't think we should wait 
that long," Bette Morse stam- 
mered. "If we do, the baby will be 
more than a month old by the time 
we make everything legal . . ." 

General Chatham understood 
immediately. 

Major James Kennedy's leave 
papers were issued within the 
hour ... • 



60 



LOVE WITH ANOTHER 
WOMAN 

(Continued from page 31} 

think my body wants those same 
sensations; that I don't need the very 
same sort of relief?" 

"How could you?" I blurted out 
"A woman can't do what a man 
can. Whatever it is that you get isn't 
anything like my kind of sex. It's 
. . . it's . . . well it's unnatural. It 
can't be nearly as wonderful as all 
the things I know." 

"Oh I wish I could explain it to 
you," she sighed. 

"Well, why can't you. I told you 
what I felt Why can't you do the 
same thing." 

"Because," she said, "words just 
aren't good enough. There just isn't 
anything in your experience thatyou 
can compare it with. If I could only 
show you . . . but. . ." 

"All right, show me then," I told 



her. 

"Don't be silly," she said. 

"It's not silly. Go ahead and show 
me. See. Here I am," I leaned back 
against the couch. "Do anything 
you want I won't stop you. In fact 
I want you to. Or are you afraid to 
put your theories to a test? I dare 
you to." 

She looked at me almost pityingly. 
"Oh Karen, you're being foolish. 
You know you are. You can't change 
to my way of life just because of a 
tantrum. It isn't right" 

My eyes began to tear again. I put 
my head down on the arm of the 
couch. "Oh Lorraine. Please. Imean 
it I've got to' have something. And 
whatever you do it's bound to be 
better than nothing at all. I don't 
mind. Honestly Lorraine. I'd like 
you to do something to me. Any- 
thing you want And I'll do anything 
back that you want Please Lorraine. 
PleaBe." 

"You poor silly kid! You are real 



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desperate, aren't you. I know I 
shouldn't But . . . well . . . you 
really need the other kind, a good 
butch, but all right ... I'll try. I'll 
do my best for you, but you've got 
to help me; you've got to cooperate. 
You're sure now, absolutely sure. 
Don't just tease me hot and then 
runaway." 

"I'm sure, Lorraine. And I won't 
chicken out No matter what you 
want me to do, I'll go through with 
it I promise. On my honor. Youjust 
tell me how I'm supposed to act 
And I'll try ... all the way till 
we're both done." 

She came over and sat beside me, 
and slipped her arm around my 
shoulder. There was a moment of 
silence and then she sighed. Her fin- 
gers fumbled with the buttons of my 
blouse and then slipped down in- 
side. "Relax," she cooed. "Just re- 
lax. I know how you feel. Oh I 
know exactly what you feel. Just put 
your- head on my shoulder for a 
moment or so. Then everything will 
be all right" 

Her other hand was slipping up 
my leg. I felt a moment of panic, 
but I forced it away. And then sud- 
denly I was coming alive with ex- 
citement I let out the slightest gasp, 
and then pressed closer to Lorraine 
Almost instinctively my hand went to 
her breast I don't know why. I 
could tell the way her body pushed 
against me, that I had done the 
right thing. 

We sat that way for a minute or 
two. Then suddenly Lorraine broke 
away from me. It was like a bucket 
of cold water. "Don't stop," I al- 
most shrieked. "For God's sake don't 
stop now." 

She laughed. "You silly child. Of 
course we're not stopping. I couldn't 
stop now if I wanted to." Her face 
was flushed and her breath was com- 
ing more rapidly. " But we can't go 
on like this!" She grabbed at her 
clothing excitedly. "Come on. Hur- 
ry. Let's get these silly things off." 

Even on my wedding night I nev- 
er undressed more quickly. 

And then we were rushing into 
each other's arms with a glad cry 
of anticipation. Her lips found mine. 
This was no girl's kiss, either, but 
pure passion, violent explosive, 
consuming. Her hands were moving 
over my body and soon her lips 
followed them. I fell back on the 
couch, Lorraine right with me. I 
shut my eyes and surrendered my- 
self to total sensation. It was soft 
but overpowering, gentle, yet de- 
manding, refusing to stop until it 
was complete. 

IT WAS MY turn now as Lor- 
raine, her body almost writhing 
with need, lay back awaiting my 
ministrations. I wasn't quite sure 
what I ought to do, but tentatively 
I began repeating some of the ac- 
tions she had just demonstrated so 



beautifully to me. As I kissed her, 
I was momentarily shocked at the 
difference. There was no hard, mus- 
cular, masculine aroma; only the 
soft sweet pliable flesh. I let myself 
linger, as tenderly as I could, know- 
ing how I would enjoy the sensa- 
tions it aroused. 

It was certainly different but not 
unpleasant In fact it made me feel 
wonderful to know that I was capa- 
ble of giving her such pleasure. It 
might have been my own body I was 
caressing for I seemed to come alive 
with every gasp she gave, to thrill 
to every movement of enjoyment 
she demonstrated. How long it went 
on I don't know but I was actually 
sorry when it was all over. 

And when she whispered, "Karen, 
Karen, you're wonderful, I wouldn't 
have believed how sweet you could 
be," I was so pleased I could have 
strutted. 

It was only later, much later that 
I began to wonder. The experience 
had been so wonderful, so satisfying, 
so absolutely terrific that it seemed 
practically impossible that it could 
have been wrong and unnatural. I 
had done it but I didn't feel pecu- 
liar; I didn't feel perverted. In my 
senses, I was exactly the same girl 
I had been before. Yet things were 
different and I knew it 

It was the future that worried me. 
I loved my husband very much. How 
could I face him after all this. And 
Lorraine, with her type of love. I 
didn't want to give that up either. 
What was I going to do. The thoughts 
wouldn't go out of my head. I spent 
a long and almost sleepless night 
as conflicting ideas and emotions 
churned about inside my mind. 

The next day I called Lorraine 
and made an appointment to meet 
her. We decided to get together in 
her apartment I had decided to ex- 
plain all my problems to her and 
see what she could figure out I was 
well aware that lesbians naturally 
tend to "recruit" new members to 
their sorority whenever possible and 
was prepared to discount that in her 
discussion. But I did want to hear 
what she had to say. 

Strangely, it wasn't at all what I 
expected. She didn't take my conver- 
sation as a matter of course, nor did 
she suggest, as I had anticipated, 
that I immediately leave my home 
and husband to move in with her 
kind of woman. 

"You've got to find out how you 
really feel, first It isn't fair to judge 
from yesterday. Because I have the 
feeling you're like me, a femme, and 
I'm just not the right type to give 
you all you deserve If I weren't 
your cousin and so close to you, I 
might try to take advantage of you, 
but I like you too much for that Be- 
sides," and she whispered the last, 
"I'm in love I've got my own butch 
and I wouldn't hurt her for anything 
in the world." 



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In the end, we worked out a plan 
by which I could try things for a few 
days without getting myself too in- 
volved. It had some element of dan- 
ger, since I discovered that women 
can be terribly possessive and once 
an attachment is made they will fight 
with every weapon, open and under- 
handed, to keep their girls. But Lor- 
raine would introduce me as a friend 
from out of town who was looking 
for someone to keep her happy dur- 
ing a short visit to the city. At the 
end, I'd just leave town and then, 
quietly, return home again as myself. 

The arrangements were made that 
day, and the same evening I moved 
in with my new "lover" for my big 
experiment Once again I was sur- 
prised. I'd pictured the man type girl 
to be the hard, short-haired, stocky 
and square cut caricature one reads 
about in books or sees pictured in the 
movies. My new partner was any- 
thing but that kind. In fact, on look- 
ing at her, neither I, nor anyone else 
could possibly picture her in her 
chosen life role. I'm not saying that 
she wore ribbons in her hair and 
frilly dresses, but she was definitely 
all woman and looked it Her dresses 
were stylish and womanly; her hair- 
do was identical with millions you 
see in the street; and her figure, full 
and curved wasn't hidden or masked 
in any way. 

She laughed when I told her how 
different she was to what I'd imag- 
ined. "I don't know how they be- 
have in your home town," she said, 
"but here it's different One has to 
make a living and that's difficult if 
people don't think you're just what 
you appear to be. Besides, I'm proud 
to be a woman. I wouldn't be any- 
thing else. I hate men and every- 
thing about them." 

But talk and behaviour are two 
different things. As the days went 
on, I discovered that only too plain- 
ly and direcfly. A woman's love 
can be tender and delicious, but for 
certain satisfactions a female must 
take on certain male attributes to 
compete. And artificiality, no matter 
how clever, how approximate and 
how assumed, cannot compete with 
the real thing. She tried so very 
much. I just couldn't tell her how in- 
ferior her performance was. And yet 
I must admit that it wasn't bad. I'd 
certainly rather be with an experi- 
enced woman than a bumbling, fum- 
bling man. But compared to my hus- 
band this was only a second-rate 
result 

For what it was, Imustsay honest- 
ly that she was better than any man. 
By knowing exactly how I felt how I 
reacted; by understanding my needs 
and desires; having lived through 
my sensations, she was able in all 
ways but one to raise me to peaks 
of ecstacy that I could never have 
imagined. And I must say too, that 
all my needs and frustrations van- 
ished completely. 



STILL, AT THE end of threedays 
I knew what my decision was go- 
ing to be. For much as I enjoyed 
myself; happy as I had been, I want- 
ed and desired a man's love far 
more than the best that a woman 
could give me. 

I explained it all to Lorriane, on 
the afternoon on which I was to 
"leave town" and go home again. 

She shook her head in wonder- 
ment I don't honestly believe that 
she had even remotely imagined that 
I could ever have gone back to my 
man. Nor do I think that she truly 
understood my reasons. 

"If you'd ever had a man, a real 
man," I told her, "you'd know what 
I was talking about But you just 
can't begin to imagine it can you?" 

"No I can't" she replied. "And 
really, I don't want to. But you have 
been fair. I give you full credit for 
that You're still my favorite cousin. 
And if that's what you want more 
power to you. I hope that you're 
as happy as you deserve to be." 

So I went home. And when my 
husband returned to me, I knew in 
a matter of minutes that I'd made 
absolutely the right decision. More 
than anything else, he's what I want 
in life And during our times to- 
gether, when we're locked in an em- 
brace of real sex. I'm even more 
convinced. As a lover, he's my ul- 
timate ideal. 

My husband still takes his busi- 
ness trips. And when he does, that 
feeling of emptiness, loneliness and 
need comes over me again. But 
when it does, I take the healthy, not 
the perverted way out. There's noth- 
ing like a busy day's work cleaning 
the house from attic to basement, or 
busying myself in the kitchen to take 
my mind off my problems. 

I took one big gamble with my 
life and that's more than enough. I 
was lucky to be able to get out of 
what might easily have become a 
complex and difficult situation. I 
might not be that lucky a second 
time 

Lorraine as she was in the past 
is a good friend and confidante to- 
day. She's still my cousin and blood 
is thicker than water. However, un- 
fortunately she is far too set in her 
ways to ever really change and both 
of us recognize that. But now when 
she comes fo visit me, I never ques- 
tion her; in fact we never even ap- 
proach any mention of sex in any 
way. 

I tried the off beat ways of love 
and they didn't work. I'm happy 
I had the experience, if only be- 
cause it proved to me how thor- 
oughly I need a man and a man's 
kind of true and total love. A hus- 
band is the only solution that works, 
honesUy and for all time. 

After my few days of trying the 
other, I can honestly and thankfully 
say, "Never Again!" • 



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RED CLOUD 

(Continued from page 39) 



sign and they'd be watching for us. 
It's nigh onto a mile to the wood 
chopper's camp and just about the 
same distance to Captain Powell's 
wagon-box corral. But the captain 
is out in the open and we'd be spot- 
ted for sure if we headed that way. 
Best thing is to try for the wood 
chopper's camp on Piney Island." 

Jim nodded. Together they crawl- 
ed quietly out of sight into the 
brush. They had covered half the 
distance to the wood camp when 
they heard the first shots. Jim peer- 
ed through an opening in the brush. 
"That's the people from the wood 
camp, Smitty," he announced. 

Then, even closer, came another 
burst of shooting. They crawled out 
to the edge of the brush in order 
to see into the valley below. 

The wood train, at full gallop, 
was just closing the circle of a 
fighting corral. Sioux and Cheyenne 
raced alongside on straining ponies, 
yelling and shooting at the team- 
sters and their soldier escorts. 

Both scouts fully realized the dan- 
ger. The wood camp had been sur- 
prised and the choppers and soldiers 
driven off Piney Island. The wood 
train below them was now com- 
pletely isolated and surrounded by 
more than three hundred Sioux and 
Cheyenne. Smitty and Jim's only 
chance was to get to the wagon- 
box corral. 

"Powell hasn't more than thirty 
men," Smitty said. "Red Cloud could 
smother them in one charge— chew 
'em up like he did Fetterman." 

"It won't be that easy," Jim 
grunted. "You're forgetting that 
Powell's men have those new re- 
peating rifles-those Allin-Spring- 
flelds— while Fetterman' s patrol was 
armed with single-shot muskets. 
Besides, a relief party might get 
through to Powell from the fort." 

"Them new rifles ain't never been 
used in battle," Smitty pointed out. 
"Who knows if they'll even work 
in a fight." 

"I ain't going to argue with you 
right now," said Jim. "Facing facts 
still leaves us the wagon-box corral 
—and I ain't giving up all hope 
neither." 

Out on the open grassy plain they 
could see it from where they lay— 
a black spot in the waving green 
that marked the tiny corral of wag- 
on-boxes. 

The plain, a good mile or more 
beyond their present hiding place, 
was about a thousand yards across 
at its widest, bordered by low, pine 
covered hills separated by canyons. 
It sloped upward to form a low hill 
in the center. Here the wagon 
boxes, removed from their running 
gear, had been formed into a nar- 
row oval. Blocking each open end 



of the oval was a wagon. Small logs 
filled the spaces between the wagon- 
boxes. 

Going downhill, the scouts now 
traveled without any attempt at 
concealment. Silence was no longer 
important. The Sioux would soon 
turn their attention to the wagon- 
box corral, whatever the outcome 
of their attack on the wood camp 
crew. 

The two men had just reached the 
last patch of cover as the first Sioux 
horsemen came out on the plain 
from a canyon along the western 
rim. "Run for it," Smitty shouted. 

Digging moccasined feet into the 
earth, they burst from cover. They 
were half way to the corral when 
they -heard the first shouts of sur- 
prise from the Sioux. 

Another hundred yards to go! 
And behind them the thunder of 
unshod hooves was getting closer. 
Jim stumbled. Smitty grabbed for 
his arm and jerked him up. A rag- 
ged volley of shots rang out and 
behind them a horse screamed. Then 
the sound of pursuit died away, as 
strong hands hauled the exhausted 
scout over the wagon-boxes and into 
the corral. 

CAPTAIN Powell looked over the 
thirty-two men that made up 
his garrison. "We're going to have 
to fight for our lives today," he said 
quietly. "Don't start firing until I 
give the command. Remember that." 

The two scouts looked at the wag- 
on-boxes. They didn't look very 
strong. The sacks of grain inside 
them wouldn't provide much pro- 
tection. And those layers of blankets 
wouldn't stop the Indian's fifty- 
caliber slugs. There was a two-inch 
hole about a foot from the bottom 
of each wagon-box. This was the 
gun slit. 

Captain Powell spoke again as 
the two scouts finished their inspec- 
tion of the defenses. "We've got a 
good supply of ammunition. Let the 
best marksmen do the shooting. The 
other men will load for them. There 
are enough rifles so that each shooter 
can use at least four. Some of you 
will have more. Don't waste ammu- 
nition. Now take your places." 

The two scouts paired off with the 
soldiers who were to load for them. 
Jim twisted and turned until his 
position was comfortable. The pri- 
vate attending him broke open the 
ammunition boxes and began load- 
ing the six rifles and two revolvers. 
The heat of the sun soon started to 
work through the heavy blanket 
covering the wagon-box top. Jim's 
buckskins. turned coffee-brown from 
sweat. The blanket made the air 
hot and sticky but at least the semi- 
darkness gave him a sharp, clear 
view through the firing hole. Every- 



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thing on the plain showed up dis- 
tinctly. 

The scout watched the Indians 
ride out from the shadow of the can- 
yons. There were more than five 
hundred braves on his side of the 
corral alone. How many more were 
on the other side or back in the 
hills-he couldn't say. 

More and more Indians crowded 
out on to the plain. The scout Whis- 
tled in astonishment. "Looks like all 
the Indians in America is out there," 
he muttered. Raising his eyes, he 
could see the squaws and the chil- 
dren squatting on the hilltops. "Must 
feel pretty sure of themselves to 
bring their families." 

"What do you see?" asked the 
loader. 

"All the fighting Sioux is out 
there," the scout reported, "every 
blinking one of them. I can see Og- 
alalas, Brules, Unkpapas, Minicon- 
jous, and Sans Arcs. They've even 
got Cheyenne and Arapahos run- 
ning with them— and Crows! Would 
you believe it-two Crows! That's 
one for you, soldier. Crows teaming 
up with Sioux! They've been scalp- 
ing each other long before the white 
man even came to America." 

Off to one side the scout noticed 
a group of Indians who sat on their 
horses quietly, while other restless 
warrior rode back and forth. Jim 
quickly recognized Red Cloud's 
commanding figure in the center. 
Spotted Tail-shorter and heavier, 
sat close beside him. Old Two Moon 
of the Cheyennes was there; so were 
Buffalo Tongue. Swift Bear. Man- 
Afraid-Of-His-Horse, and Rain-in- 
the-Face. Each was a great chief. 

A lone warrior left the main group 
and rode unhurriedly toward the 
wagon-box corral. Across his back 
was slung a bow and quiver of ar- 
rows. A buffalo hide shield clung 
loosely to his left arm. In his right 
hand he carried a carbine, a crimson 
feather fluttering from its barrel. 
His pony's body was striped with 
red. yellow and blue paint 

Chanting his war song, the lone 
rider came closer. Jim lined him up 
in the rifle sights. The big brave 
stopped singing when he was within 
rifle range. He taunted the men in 
the wagon-boxes, calling them 
frightened women, sons of dogs. He 
dared them to come out and fight. 
He gestured obscenely. Jim's finger 
tightened on the trigger. Then he 
remembered Captain Powell's order 
not to shoot until the command was 
given. 

In a final gesture of contempt, 
the big Sioux kicked his horse in the 
flank and galloped straight toward 
the corral. The scout held his breath. 
How good a hold did Powell have 
on his men, he wondered. Would 
they hold their fire . 

A bare ten yards from the corral, 
the Sioux turned his pony. Firing 
at the silent corral, he rode clear 
around it. Then, with a final gesture 
of contempt, he rode back out of 



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70 



range. 

Not a single shot had been fired 
from inside the corral. The only 
sounds Jim heard were the muttered 
curses of the riflemen. Now the 
little fort was deadly still. Though 
the tiny garrison might not live to 
see another day, there would be no 
panic. But, the scout reflected, that 
wasn't much comfort. Unless help 
came, they were finished. 

He knew he was looking at the 
greatest gathering of Indians that 
he had ever seen in his many years 
in the' western mountains and on the 
buffalo plains. Facing the corral 
were at least two thousand Sioux. 
Survival, he knew, depended on the 
answer to two questions: would the 
new repeating rifles do what they 
were supposed to do? Would the 
Indians ignore their losses and ride 
in to overwhelm them by sheer 
weight oi overwhelming numbers? 
The scout knew the temper of the 
Sioux— clever and courageous fight- 
ers. The new rifles looked depend- 
able. But only time would tell 
whether they'd heat up and jam 
at a critical moment. He looked at 
the single canteen of water and 
wished he had more. It wouldn't 
last long cooling six rifles. 

The first wave of Indians were 
detaching themselves from the main 
body. Jim figured there were at 
least five hundred in the group. 
They rode the best ponies. Besides 
rifles, carbines and muskets, each 
brave earried a quiver of arrows 
and a bow slung over his back. 

Their horses broke into a canter 
and the braves spread out in a cres- 
cent. The ponies began to pick r.p 
speed. A single yell rang out, fol- 
■owed by a bedlam of savage cries. 
The thunder of hooves reminded the 
scout of the great buffalo herds flee- 
ing in panic. It was evident that 
Red Cloud aimed to end the fight 
with one swift, overpowering blow, 
to smash right through the wagon- 
boxes, into the corral, by sheer force. 
■Jot a sound came from the cor- 
" ral. The attackers were now at 
full gallop. Now they were within 
seventy-five yards and the noise was 
deafening. On all sides the Indians 
were a solid mass. Anticipating an 
easy victory, they made no attempt 
at caution. 

They were within fifty yards when 
Captain Powell yelled "Fire!"- 
making the command heard above 
the din. Every rifle from the corral 
fired at once, in one solid sheet of 
lead. This was what the Sioux were 
waiting for. This was what had al- 
ways happened— one volley followed 
by anothed. Then, before the soldiers 
had time to reload it would be too 
late. 

But there was no slackening of 
fire from inside the camp. Volley 
after volley poured into the sur- 
prised faces of the Sioux. Horses 
screamed and trampled their riders. 
Screams of hate and pain rang out, 
as men and horses dropped by the 
dozens. But still they pressed for- 



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desperately to force their way back 
against the mass pushing forward. 
Without pity, the men inside the 
corral fired steadily into the writh- 
ing mass. 

The tiny garrison had suffered, 
too. Lieutenant Jenness and one of 
the privates were dead. Two other 
men were severely wounded. But 
the Indians had been driven back, to 
gather again out of rifle shot. 

Blankets were thrown back from 
the wagon tops and the cramped de- 
fenders stood up to loosen muscles 
as men and horses dropped by the 
boxes. When Jim's loader returned 
and let fresh air into the wagon- 
with a fresh supply of ammunition 
he asked hopefully, "Maybe they 
won't come back?" 

The scout shook his head. "Red 
Cloud doesn't give up that easily, 
son. They'll be back all right. Did 
you fill the canteen?" 

The loader nodded. 

"Save the water for the rifles," 
Jim said. "Two of them are use- 
less as it is." 

Red Cloud's next attack was swift 
in coming, but this time he had 
changed his method. The Sioux and 
their allies pushed out on the plain 
in even greater numbers than before. 
Stripped of all clothing, they form- 
ed a skirmish line. When they came 
within bullet range of the corral, 
they dropped in the foot high buffalo 
grass. Now there was no sure target, 
only a series of elusive, coppery 
shadows. Behind the skirmishers, 
still out of range, the main body of 
Indians waited. 

The firing started again and bul- 
lets peppered the already splintered 
wagon-boxes. From behind the 
skirmishers, fire arrows arched into 
the sky to fall flaming. The rifle 
leaders swiftly smothered those that 
reached the blankets, but some of 
the arrows caught the dried mule 
dung inside the corral. Acrid smoke 
started to cast a haze over the bat- 
tlefield. 

All shooting stopped from inside 
the corral. The soldiers and scouts 
gritted their teeth, tended to their 
wounds and waited. Finally the In- 
dian skirmishers stopped shooting. 

Suddenly the main force of the 
Sioux, Cheyenne and Arapahos be- 
hind the skirmishers leaped forward 
They came with a rush, their great 
warbonnets making them seem like 
giants. Once again the wagon-boxes 
came under heavy fire. It stopped 
as the charging Sioux came up to 
the skiimishers. Leaping over them, 
the charge swept forward. Still 
there was no firing from inside the 
corral. 

Now the Indians were so close 
that their ferocious yelling blended 
into one great blast of terrifying 
sound. Tired muscles jerked with 
nervous tension as the defenders 
waited for Captain Powell's com- 
mand. 

"Fire!" The word barely reached 



their ears above the savage yelling. 
Red Cloud's nephew, leading the 
charge, stopped in mid-stride, seem- 
ed to hang in the air, then fell 
dead. All around the grass was wet 
and slippery with blood. As the first 
wave of Indians died, those behind 
pressed forward, stumbling over the 
dead and dying. 

Jim wondered how much longer 
his rifle would take such constant 
pressure. He looked eastward in the 
direction of Fort Kearney. There 
was nothing in sight, nothing but 
the solid wall of Indians. His eyes 
smarted from powder smoke and his 
trigger finger was almost numb. 
His shoulder throbbed from the con- 
stant pounding of the recoil. 

Suddenly the charge lost mo- 
mentum. The Indians started to 
panic. The great mass started to 
reel back, confused and broken. 
Some ran crazily in circles, collid- 
ing with one another as they strug- 
gled to get back out of range of the 
terrible Springfield's. 

There was no slackening of fire 
from inside the corral. Every man 
there knew how Fetterman's patrol 
had looked after the Sioux had fin- 
ished with them. 

Ammunition was starting to run 
out and many of the rifles were use- 
less when a bugle sounded far away 
to the west. A line of blue-clad 
soldiers came over the top of a hill 
and advanced on to the plain. 

Jim's smile slipped away as he 
looked for more soldiers. Barely a 
hundred men had come to their 
relief. Out in the open Red Cloud's 
huge force would overwhelm them. 
But the Sioux continued to fall 
back until they vanished into the 
surrounding hills. 

Major Smith was in command of 
the relief force. As soon as the half 
crazed men from inside the corral 
were able to walk, the retreat to 
Fort Kearney began. It was seven 
miles to the fort, and no one thought 
they'd make it. But the Indians were 
gone and at six o'clock in the eve- 
ning the relief party and the sur- 
vivors walked through the gate of 
the Kearney stockade— to safety. 

Ninety-two years have clouded 
some of the facts about the fight on 
that hot August afternoon. The ex- 
act number of Indians who took part 
in the battle is unknown, but it 
was certainly in the thousands. Gen- 
eral Dodge asked one of the scouts, 
R. J. Smythe, how many Indians 
had attacked the corral. Smythe es- 
timated the number as being close 
to three thousand. About a thousand 
were killed or wounded. The general 
then asked him how many he had 
killed. The scout said that he had 
kept eight rifles busy for more than 
three hours. 

When talking with white friends 
in 1904, Red Cloud said that he went 
into the fight with over three thou- 
sand braves—and lost over half his 
men. It wasn't Red Cloud's last fight 
but it was the one which broke 
his power forever. • 



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NAME 




73 




I am printing my message in a maga- 
zine. It may come to the attention of 
thousands of eyes. But of all those 
thousands, only a few will have the 
vision to understand. Many may read; 
but of a thousand only you may have 
the intuition, the sensitivity, to under- 
stand that what I am writing may be 
intended for you — may be the tide that 
shapes your destiny, which, taken at 
the crest, carries you to levels of inde- 
pendence beyond the dreams of avarice. 

Don't misunderstand me. There is 
no mysticism in this. I am not speak- 
ing of occult things, of innumerable 
laws of nature that will sweep you to 
success without effort on your part. 
That sort of talk is rubbish! And any- 
one who tries to tell you that you can 
think your way to riches without effort 
is a false friend. I am too much of a 
realist for that. And I hope you are. 

I hope you are the kind of man — if 
you have read this far — who knows 
that anything worthwhile has to be 
earned! I hope you have learned that 
there is no reward without effort. If 
you have learned this, then you may be 
ready to take the next step in the 
development of your karma — you may 
be ready to learn and use the secret I 
have to impart. 

I Have All The Money I Need 

In my own life I have gone beyond the need 
of money. I have it. I have gone beyond 
the need of pain. I have two businesses that 
pay me an income well above any amount 
I have need for. And, in addition, I have 
the satisfaction — the deep satisfaction — of 
knowing that I have put more than three 
hundred other men in businesses of their 
own. Since I have no need for money, the 
greatest satisfaction I get from life is shar- 
ing my secret of personal independence 
with others — seeing them achieve the same 
heights of happiness that have come into 
mv own life. 

Please don't misunderstand this state- 
ment. I am not a philanthropist. I believe 
that charity is something that no proud 
man will accept. I have never seen a man 
who was worth his salt who would accept 
something for nothing. I have never met a 
highly successful man whom the world re- 
spected who did not sacrifice something to 

74 



I'd like to give this to 
my fellow men... 

while I am still able to help! 



I was young once, as you may be — 
today I am older. Not too old to enjoy 
the fruits of my work, but older in the 
sense of being wiser. And once I was 
poor, desperately poor. Today almost 
any man can stretch his income to 
make ends-meet. Today, there are few 
who hunger for bread and shelter. But 
in my youth I knew the pinch of pov- 
erty ; the emptiness of hunger ; the cold 
stare of the creditor who would not take 
excuses for money. Today, all that is 
.past. And behind my city house, my 



summer home, my Cadillacs, my win- 
ter-long vacations and my sense of 
independence — behind all the wealth of 
cash and deep inner satisfaction that 
I enjoy — there is one simple secret. It 
is this secret that I would like to impart 
to you. If you are satisfied with a hum- 
drum life of service to another master, 
turn this page now — read no more. If 
you are interested in a fuller life, free 
from bosses, free from worries, free 
from fears, read further. This message 
may be meant for you. 



By Victor B. Mason 



gain his position. And, unless you are will- 
ing to make at least half the effort, I'm not 
interested in giving you a "'leg up" to the 
achievement of your goal. Frankly, I'm 
going to charge you something for the 
secret I give you. Not a lot — but enough to 
make me believe that you are a little above 
the fellows who merely "wish" for success 
and are not willing to sacrifice something 
to get it. 

A Fascinating and Peculiar 
Business 

I have a business that is peculiar — one of 
my businesses. The unusual thing about it 
is that it is needed in every little community 
throughout this country. But it is a busi- 
ness that will never be invaded by the "big 
fellows." It has to be handled on a local 
basis. No giant octopus can ever gobble up 
the whole thing. No big combine is ever 
going to destroy it. It is essentially a "one 
man" business that can be operated with- 
out outside help. It is a business that is 
good summer and winter. It is a business 
that is growing each year. And. it ' busi- 
ness that can be started on an in ment 
so small that it is within the read, it any- 
one who has a television set. But ^L has 
nothing to do with television. 

This business has another peculiarity. It 
can be started at home in spare time. No 
risk to present job. No risk to present in- 
come. And no need to let anyone else know 
you are "on your own." It can be run as a 
spare time business for extra money. Or, 
as it grows to the point where it is paying 
more than your present salary, it can be 
expanded into a full time business — over- 
night. It can give you a sense of personal 
independence that will free you forever 
from the fear of lay-off. toss of job, depres- 
sions, or economic reverses. 

Are You Mechanically Inclined? 

While the operation of this business is 
partly automatic, it won't run itself. If you 
are to use it as a stepping stone to inde- 
pendence, you must be able to work with 
your hands, use such tools as hammer and 
screw driver, and enjoy getting into a pair 
of blue jeans and rolling up your sleeves. 
But two hours a day of manual work will 
keep your "factory" running 24 hours turn- 
ing out a product that has a steady and 



ready sale in every community. A half 
dollar spent for raw materials can bring 
you six dollars in cash — six times a day. 

In this message I'm not going to try to 
tell you the entire story. There is not 
enough space on this page. And. I am not 
going to ask you to spend a penny now to 
learn the secret. I'll send you all the in- 
formation, free. If you are interested in 
becoming independent, in becoming your 
own boss, in knowing the sweet fruits of 
success as I know them, send me your 
name. That's all. Just your name. I won't 
ask you for a penny. I'll send you all the 
information about one of the most fascinat- 
ing businesses you can imagine. With these 
facts, you will make your own investigation. 
You will check up on conditions in your 
neighborhood. You will weigh and analyze 
the whole proposition. Then, and then only. 
if you decide to take the next step. I'll 
allow you to invest $15.00. And even then, 
if vou decide that your fifteen dollars has 
been badly invested I'll return it to you. 
Don't hesitate to send your name. I have no 
salesmen. I will merely write you a long 
letter and send you complete facts about 
the business I have found to be so success- 
fid. After that, you make the decisions. 

Does Happiness Hang on Your 
Decision? 

Don't put this off. It may be a coincidence 
that you are reading these words right now. 
Or, it may be a matter that is more deeply 
connected with your destiny than either of 
us can say. There is only one thing certain: 
If you have read this far you are interested 
in the kind of independence I enjoy. And if 
that is true, then you must take the next 
step. No coupon on this advertisement. If 
you don't think enough of your future hap- 
piness and prosperity to write your name 
on a postcard and mail it to me. forget the 
whole thing. But if you think there is a 
destiny that shapes men's lives, send your 
name now. What I send you may convince 
you of the truth of this proverb. And what 
I send you will not cost a penny, now or at 
any other time. 

VICTOR B. MASON 

1512 Jarvis Ave., Suite M-43-CT 
CHICAGO, ILLINOIS 60626 



Hi* MO* 



Beware of the quacks who are cashing 
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A CHINESE NYMPHO, A RUSSIAN 
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A 



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